


Life After Death

by Needling1213



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action, Eventual Romance, F/M, Humor, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Post-Apocalypse, Slow Burn, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29104521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Needling1213/pseuds/Needling1213
Summary: Desirée Parker has only ever had one thing going for her - her older brother, Dave. However, after Dave is shot by some assholes in a bar and she is soon after kidnapped alongside an annoying kid, Desireé must decide which means more to her. Should she let this group kill her and join her brother in the after life? Or should she fight and keep his memory alive?
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Character(s), Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s), Lori Grimes/Rick Grimes, Lori Grimes/Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	1. Nebraska

Dave Parker had never been a man of words, since early childhood he had preferred to settle things with a good, old fashioned beating. His sister was different, she fought with her  _ words _ , something Dave had never mastered. It was true that he liked to settle disagreements in a more unnecessary fashion compared to most, but that didn’t mean he  _ didn’t _ know how to use his mouth. No, he was a man of perfect composure on the outside, no hint of the storm constantly churning underneath his heated skin. He knew how to use his charms, mostly against the ladies, but it had turned in his favor on a few other unsettled arguments he knew he couldn’t get away with.

It was because he was a learned man of words that Dave saw the situation he was in as completely fucked.

“Son of a bitch. They’re alive.”

He eyed the three strangers they had stumbled across, naturally wary of them. Tony had wanted a drink and though Dave had promised Desi he wouldn’t sometimes he couldn’t resist the pull men like Tony brought out of him. He hadn’t seen the harm in scoping out the bar, maybe getting lucky with a few drinks and continuing their search of the nearby pharmacy.

He rubbed his hands together. No, Dave was more action, but even he knew despite Tony’s size the two of them could not take on three strangers with guns. He was partially interested in the leader, a tall man with dark hair and sharp eyes.

His eyes reminded him of his uncle’s, Hayden, before someone placed a bullet between them. He chose not to think about it long. If he did, his sister’s screams came back, the red, sticky blood staining her porcelain cheeks.

He stepped forward with a practiced smile, throwing Tony a slight warning wave behind him. They had to access the situation, to think and analyze every little detail. In short, he had to be Desi. It was a hell of a lot harder than she ever made it out to be.

“Do you two want a drink?” the leader questioned, one brow raised up to his hairline.

“Hell yeah,” Tony crackled. He waddled across the floor, his bulk causing him to knock into a few chairs. The one he chose near the bar creaked under his weight, giving signs of warning when Tony laid his shotgun across his lap. Dave thought smarter and made sure his weapon wasn’t in sight.

“I’m Dave,” he said offhandedly, he looked between an older man with graying hair and a desolate air about him and the one in front of him. He was smart, he didn’t go to college like Tony, but he was still smarter than his counterpart. He pointed at him. “That scrawny-looking douche bag there is Tony.”

“Eat me, Dave,” Tony chuckled. Dave sat back and sipped at the drink in his hand. He briefly wondered if it had been poisoned, but bypassed the thought. It was so much simpler to shoot someone right between the eyes than poison.

“Hey, maybe someday I will,” he countered. He reached to pick at a spot on the stained table, his nick pickiness coming out to bite him in the ass. “We met on I-95 coming out of Philly. Damn shit-show that was.” He lifted his eyes and the two leaders knew their problem. Dave was smart, but so was the other man. He almost wished he had brought Desi along, she would know how to handle this. Desi was with Randall on the other side of town though, he didn’t trust the kid to be left to Nate and Sean, too impressionable, too  _ eager _ . 

An asian boy popped a smile and leaned off of the bar. “I’m Glenn,” he said, friendly enough. “It’s nice to meet some new people.” Dave eyed the leader and watched as he stepped away to hand Glenn a drink.

“Rick Grimes,” he said, loud and clear. He looked back and moved to hand a drink to Tony. Everyone, but the older man received one. 

Dave noticed.

“How ‘bout you, pal? Have one?” he motioned to the elder, his eyes wide and curious. The man shook his head, remorse still plastered across his face.

“I just quit,” the man answered, his voice scratchy from what he had consumed. He nodded at Dave, unable to suppress the effects of the alcohol he had clearly been drowning before his “quitting.”

“You’ve got a unique sense of timing, my friend,” Dave noted. He let a smile slip at the end. He didn’t want to appear as hostile, there was Desi and Jane to think about. If they had a camp...a safe haven. He had to save his sister, his cousin. It was his job.

Rick spoke up for the older man. “His name’s Hershel. He lost people today, a lot of them.” The smile fell from Dave, he let his eyes fall away as he recalled the bodies himself.

“I’m truly sorry to hear that.” He knew what it was like, he had lost people too, and like Hershel, it was a lot of them. He had friends, Desi had a boyfriend. He couldn’t recall any longer what it was like to refer to people in the present tense and not the past. He had to catch himself when he even talked of Desi because one day he knew one of them wouldn’t be around forever.

If only he had known. 

He gulped and lifted up his glass to his lips. He wanted the burn of the liquor once again, though he was careful not to fall back into the dark days. “To better days and new friends.” He moved the glass around. “And to our dead, may they be in a better place.” Together, they all lifted their glasses. 

He moved forward in the chair to push his glass away, a reminder not to drink too much in the presence of hostiles. His shirt lifted at the movement and he felt Rick’s stare on the weapon Desi had given him. He locked eyes with him and boldly pulled it out, attempting to appear relaxed despite the hammering organ in his chest.

“Not bad, huh?” He laid it out on his hand, palm flat, to show them, crossing one leg over the other to a better position. The key was to appear relaxed like Desi told him to when he got into situations like these, when he couldn’t use his fist and anger to defeat everything in his path. He looked down at the weapon, scrambled for a thing to say. “I got it off of a cop.”

“I’m a cop,” replied Rick immediately. Dave jumped to his defense, cursed at himself for his stupidity. He had to be smarter.

“This one was already dead.” He placed the gun back in its place and sat back again. He smiled, desperate to distinguish the dark energy in the room. He would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t nervous, but he didn’t bring it up. Desi was better at confrontation, she knew how to get into people’s heads. It was a bit scary how she managed it, he never had that same talent.

Rick nodded and looked towards Tony. “You fellas are a long way from Philadelphia.” Dave refrained from mentioning Jane, or Desi. It was his cousin that had driven him out of the state, she was ranting about a cure in D.C, but they never got close.

“It feels like we’re a long way from anywhere,” Tony replied.

“Well, what drove you South?”

“Well, I can tell you it wasn’t the weather.” He shook just thinking about it. He never thought he would have missed the cold and Desi claimed that she would die any day from dehydration. He pinched his nose at the uncomfortable thought. “I must have dropped thirty pounds alone in sweat alone down here.”

“I wish,” Tony spoke up. Dave eyed him in suspicion. He wouldn’t let Tony fuck up his chance to get Desi and Jane to a safe place. Even if he had to stay behind. His baby sister and cousin came first, they always did. He wasn’t too close to Jane, that was more Desi, but she was family nevertheless and if Dave learned anything in the new world it was that you had to stick by family.

He thought of his uncle, the red blood that splattered across his shoes after the fact. Desi’s screams. Best not to worry about. It’s been over a long time.

“No, first it was D.C,” he continued on, pushing past the memory. “I heard there might be some kind of refugee camp, but the roads were so jammed, we never even got close.” He shook his head at the new memory of the mass pile ups. Jane had cried at the sight, she had always been more protected throughout their childhood, while Desi fell silent for days because it was like they had never left home to begin with. “We decided to get off the highways, into the sticks, keep hauling ass. Every group we came across had a new rumor about a way out of this thing.”

“One guy told us there was the coast guard sitting in the gulf, sending ferries to the islands,” Tony interjected. Dave looked away, he remembered the fights over the water and had escaped quickly.

“The latest was a rail yard in Montgomery running trains to the middle of the country. Kansas, Nebraska.” Glenn looked up, more interested than before.

“Nebraska?” he questioned. Dave shrugged.

“Low population, lots of guns,” Tony said. 

Glenn shifted. “Kinda makes sense.”

“Ever been to Nebraska, kid?” Glenn looked up and saw Dave shake his head in amusement. “There’s a reason they call ‘em flyover states.” Tony let a strained laugh pass through as Rick finished off his drink and placed it down. Dave looked down at his lap and flashed back to wherever Desi was. He wanted her out if things went bad, he felt a vibe off of Rick he couldn’t quite place.

“How about you guys?” He lifted his head, his mouth a straight line.

“Fort Benning, eventually,” Rick answered.

“I hate to piss in your cornflakes, Officer, but, um…” Dave really did hate it, honestly. He was desperate himself for a safe place to lie low in. “We ran across a grunt who was stationed at Benning. He said the place was overrun by Lamebrains.”

He watched their faces drop and felt sorry for them. Glenn spoke up in disbelief. “Wait? Fort Beginning is gone? Are you for real?” Rick closed his eyes as Dave bit his bottom lip.

“Sadly, I am.” He wasn’t happy to be the one to deliver the news. He looked to his hands and imagined them stained again and again. How many was it? Was he inhumane for not remembering? “Oddly, the truth is there is no way out of this mess.” It wasn’t as if the world was perfect before, it had a certain way to fuck Dave backwards and frontwards, but he sure as hell prefered it then. 

He picked at the dirt underneath his nails and continued his monologue. “Just keep going from one pipe dream to the next, praying one of these mindless freaks doesn’t grab hold of you when you sleep.”

“If you sleep,” Tony piped up. Dave nodded in agreement. He lifted his head, a survival thought flashed through. He remembered the cars they had passed, how Desi had mentioned them being clean and empty. He had dismissed it, he shouldn’t have, but there was a reason she could have done something with her life and not him. 

“Yeah, it doesn’t look like you guys are hanging your hats here,” he pointed out. “You held up somewhere else?” He watched Rick’s face, the guard that had previously been up turned to stone.

“Not really.” He moved back, his tone a hint to back off. Dave didn’t. He wasn’t thinking of himself, his thoughts were on his baby sister. She was always his first priority since the day she was born and he was the first to hold her after their mother shoved her away. 

“Those your cars out front?” He pointed behind him, a challenge to deny. 

“Yeah, why?” Glenn answered. Dave shrugged.

“We’re living in ours,” he said. “Those look, uh, kinda empty...clean. Where’s all your gear?”

Hershel moved and spoke for the first time. Dave guessed he wasn’t much of a talker even when sober. “We’re with a larger group out scouting, thought we could use a drink.”

“A drink? Hershel, I thought you quit.” He was always good at spotting the errors in stories. He smiled, a little hurt, but understood the survival tactic to lie. He looked away again. “Well, we’re thinking of setting up around here. Is it-is it safe?”

“It can be,” Glenn said. He lifted his hand in afterthought. “Although, I have killed a couple of walkers around here.” Dave lifted the corners of his mouth.

“Walkers?” he laughed. “That what you call ‘em?” Glenn shared the amusement and laughed himself.

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. I like that. I like that better than Lamebrains.” He reached up to scratch at his eye when Tony spoke up again.

“More succinct.” 

“Okay, Tony went to college,” he said, defeated.

“Two years,” Tony added. Dave smiled and looked over at Rick. The leader stared him down and he knew he was going to have to push through the awkward silence. 

“So what-so what, you guys set up on the outskirts or something? That new development?” He nodded behind him.

“Trailer park or something?” Tony butted in. He leaned out of his seat and started to walk across the bar. “A farm?” Dave watched their reaction and knew Tony had hit a spot. 

“Old McDonald had a farm,” he lightly sang. He watched Tony stand in the corner and tug his zipper down. He snapped his attention to Rick. “You got a farm?” Rick didn’t answer, which told Dave all he needed to know. 

“E-I-E-I-O,” Tony continued to sing. He began to urinate and Dave quietly balled up his fist. Tony was going to screw it all up he knew. “Is it safe? It’s gotta be.” Dave shifted, irritated at Tony’s lack of tactic. 

He leaned forward and thought of the more important things. Survival for Desi, for Jane. Himself if he drew the lucky stick. “You got food, water?”

“You got cooze?” Dave hid back the anger. Tony needed a good smack, but it would be dumb to snap. “Ain’t had a piece of ass in weeks.” Dave rubbed at his eye to cool down his blood.

“Listen, pardon my friend,” he apologized. “City kids, they got no tact. No disrespect, honestly.” He lowered his hands and eyed Tony up and down with anger for not following his lead. College kid or not he was dumb as a brick. He knew to hit to crack, because Rick wasn’t going to bend after Tony’s royal fuck up. “So listen, uh, Glenn-”

“We’ve said enough.” Dave hid the wince. Tony had hit them hard, mentioning their woman like that. He could only pray he could work his way around the damage.

“Well, hang on a second.” He had to grasp at anything that still remained within reach. “This-this farm, it sounds pretty sweet.” He was growing desperate by the second. “Don’t it sound sweet, Tony?”

“Yeah, real sweet,” Tony agreed. He finished up and laid his shotgun across his shoulders. He began to walk back to his chair, his feet moving sluggish.

“How about a little southern hospitality? We got some buddies back at camp, been having a real hard time,” Dave said. He thought of Ben and his wife, of Jane. He had left them, but he was beginning to think he shouldn’t have. Hell, he had only taken Desi because she gave him no choice. “I don’t see why you can’t make room for a few more. We can pull our resources, our manpower.” He wasn’t greedy, he was desperate for his family.

“Look, I’m sorry. That’s not an option.” Dave knew the truth, but his sister popped up again and he pushed. 

“Doesn’t sound like it’d be a problem.” 

“I’m sorry. We can’t,” Hershel spoke. 

“We can’t take in anymore,” Rick added, trying his best. Dave chuckled, the last of his strings broken. He rubbed at his eyes, tired, defeated. He was a brother, a cousin, a friend. He had people like Rick. Why couldn’t they see that?

Why couldn’t they fucking see he had people too?

“You guys are something else. I-I thought we were friends.” He received no answer and let the smile fall. “We got people we gotta look out for too.” His voice was slightly strained. 

Rick shifted. “We don’t know anything about you.”

“No, that’s true,” Dave agreed. He shifted under their stares, the nerves high and mighty. “You don’t know anything about us. You don’t know what we’ve had to go through out there, the things we’ve had to do...I bet you’ve had to do some of those same things yourself, am I right?” He paused, thought of the stains still left on his hands. “‘Cause ain’t nobody’s hands clean in what’s left of this world. We’re all the same. So come on, let’s-let’s take a nice friendly hayride to this farm and we’ll get to know each other.”

Rick looked down, Dave knew the answer before he spoke. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“Rick-”

“This is bullshit,” Tony interrupted. 

“Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t ever tell me to calm down.”

“Woah,” Glenn said. Tony turned on them faster than Dave could control the situation. He shouldn’t have brought him. Desi  _ told _ him not to bring him.

“I’ll shoot you three assholes in the head and take your damn farm!” Dave leaped to his feet and held out his hand between the two man.

“Relax,” he smiled, trying to appear calm. He wasn’t. He could feel his heart in his teeth, pouding. “Take it easy. Nobody’s killing anybody.” He knew if it came down to it though he would, he had been pushed too far before. 

His uncle again, the blood staining the pavement.

He moved over the bar, still rambling on over his nerves. “Nobody’s shooting anybody. Right, Rick?”

His feet landed and he watched Tony grab for his gun. He stepped back and placed his own on the bar. Careful. “We’re just friends having a drink. That’s all.” He clapped his hands together and ducked below the bar. “Now where’s the good stuff, huh? Good stuff, good stuff, good stuff. Let’s see.”

He heard the click and looked up, his heart in his teeth. He talked more, his natural nervous reaction and rubbed the sweat of his palms off. “Hey, look at that.” He pulled a bottle up, a slight smile across his features. “That’ll work-” He sighed and twisted the cap off. “-you gotta understand, we can’t stay out there. You know what it’s like.”

“Yeah,” Rick answered. “I do. But the farm is too crowded as is. I’m sorry, you’ll have to keep looking.

“Keep looking,” Dave echoed. He breathed in deeply and looked down at his feet. “Where do you suggest we do that?”

“I don’t know,” Rick shrugged. “I hear Nebraska’s nice.” Dave laughed against his will, desperate. He was incredibly desperate. 

“Nebraska,” he repeated, still showing his teeth. He raised his eyebrows. “This guy.” He reached for his gun and raised it up. He remembered Desi, remembered Jane.

His uncle was back, teaching him to shoot. Dave was only six, impossibly small against the world. Desi was that age too when he taught her. 

_ Don’t ever take the first shot, Davey. _

_ Okay, uncle. _

The bullet hit him faster. He fell back, the rest of his life spread out before him. The last of Daniel Fucking Parker. Did he deserve it? Did his mistakes lead up to that point?

What would Desi do without him?


	2. Triggerfinger

“Did you hear that?”

Desirée looked up, her eyes pinched in irritation at Randall’s lack of help. “No,” she grumbled. She slouched the gasoline she had collected around and looked back to where Randall had yet to move a muscle. “Come on, kid.”

“There was a gunshot,” Randall insisted. He was ignored as the girl grabbed the second can of what they had managed to gather. She made him carry it and led the way back to the cars, not interested in the kid’s paranoia. If there had been a noise she figured it to be Nate or Sean, maybe even Tony, though Dave was with him. Dave knew better, or at least she hoped he did, and besides wouldn’t she have felt it if something had gone down with her brother?

They had to be closer than that. A better connection.

She pushed past Randall and waited for him to throw canisters in the back of the truck before she looked around and decided to hunt for Nate and Sean. There was no telling what kind of trouble they had stumbled upon.

“Are you sure?” the kid asked again. He wasn’t much younger than her twenty years, perhaps by a year or two, but girls did mature faster. Desirée was far beyond her physical years. The product of growing up too fast and a brother who wasn’t supposed to be a father and a mother to her. 

“You’re hearing things.” She doubted it herself, but was unwilling to admit. She needed to catch up to Dave, her brother always knew. She looked up, noticed that dark was setting in and picked up her pace.

“Hey, Desirée!” a voice called out. Dave was the only one allowed to call her Desi, something she had let the group know rather early on. She turned and spotted Nate and Sean. The two were leaned up against the truck they had driven in, faces pale and unsure. She rushed up to them, Randall on her heels.

“What’s wrong?” She looked around them, her heart beat faster. “Where’s Dave?”

“I heard shots,” Nate insisted. He circled around before he met eyes with her. “Somewhere over there. The place is getting swarmed with roamers.”

“Shit,” she cursed. She flipped her hair and checked the bullets in her gun. “Okay, we find Dave first.” She spun on her heels and dragged Randall to the opposite direction.

“We’ll take the car. Drive towards the other side,” Sean said. He didn’t receive a response, so the two of them hopped in the truck and peeled off. Desirée stepped lightly around the buildings, looking for her older brother.

“Dave?” she hissed. She stepped back on Randall’s shoe and motioned for him to keep his mouth shut. “Goddammit, Dave. Why are you always the one to go missing?” She couldn’t count the number of times he had gotten them lost in supermarkets, the woods, in damn cornfields. He had the worst sense of direction.

She and Randall ducked into a house to let a wild pack of roamers stumble past, their breath loud and quick. Desirée wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and twisted the gun around in her hand.

“What if-”

“ _ Don’t _ even fucking finish that thought,” she threatened, her gun pressed up to his temple. He nodded, stumbled back against the opposite side of the room and zipped his lips shut. She shook her anger and peaked over the window to watch the street. She waved Randall over and climbed over the ledge, waited for him and started to run across the open street.

_ Bang...Bang...Bang _

She paused and rushed with Randall to where she had heard the shots. They spotted Nate and Sean up ahead by the bar and quickly caught up with them.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Roamers,” Nate shrugged. “I nailed them.” Sean motioned towards the car that sat up front.

“They disappeared, but their car’s still here.” She looked over towards the bar and raised an eyebrow.

“Did you guys check this one?” They all shared a look and collectively shook their heads. She let out a groan and moved forward. “We’re looking for Dave and Tony and no one checks the damn bar?” They stepped up to the door, guns drawn.

Sean moved to push it open, but yelped and jumped back. “What?”

“Someone pushed it shut,” he gasped, eyes wide. “There’s someone in there.” Desirée placed her hand on the door and gave it another try, but it refused to budge. She made eye contact with Nate and stepped to the side.

“Yo, someone in there?” he called out. “Yo, if someone’s in there we don’t want no trouble. We’re just looking for our friends.”

“What do we do?” Randall questioned. He shifted his gun and nervously looked behind them. “Bum rush the door?”

“No, idiot,” Desirée told him, her eyes narrowed. “We don’t know how many are there. Just relax.” She pressed her back against the opposite side of the door and tried to peek through the dusty window. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” Nate repeated. “We’re just looking for our friends. If something happened, tell us.” Desirée swallowed down the thought that Dave could be in there, tied up - or worse. Dave wasn’t the type. Sure, he often let his anger get to him and he always reacted, but Dave could be smart too. He would know not to act out, to keep calm in something like that.

Dave wasn’t lying cold on the barroom floor. It wasn’t possible.

“This place is crawling with corpses,” Nate pressed on. “If you can help us not get killed, I’d appreciate it.”

“You’re bugging,” Sean whispered. He started to move down the steps. “There’s no one in there.” Nate shook his head, determined.

“Someone guard the door just in case,” he insisted. “They might know where Dave and Tony are.” Desirée and Randall took up positions, while Nate and Sean walked back.

“They drew on us!” a voice boomed within. Desirée jumped and pointed her gun at the door. The blood pounded in her ears, the words a marching band of lost hope. Nate and Sean rushed back.

“Dave and Tony in there? They alive?”

A beat of silence. Desirée could hear the blood pumping through her aerties, traveling from her head down to her toes. The same blood as Dave.

“No.”

_ No. _

Desirée watched the door, her body trembling. Nate watched her carefully, afraid what the realization that her brother was gone would do. She clenched her fist around the gun in her hand, imagined Dave’s face in her mind's eye. How could he be dead?

It was supposed to be her. Not him. Not ever  _ Dave _ .

“They killed Dave and Tony,” Sean hissed. Nate stepped forward and tugged him back, eyes still on Desirée’s still form. 

“Come on,” he insisted. “Come on, man, let’s go.” Sean shook his hold off and marched back to his previous position.

“No! I’m not leaving, I’m not telling Jane, I’m not leaving Desirée without her brother. I’m not gonna go back and tell them that Dave and Tony got shot by some assholes in a bar.”

“Your friends drew on us! They gave us no choice!” the man screamed out. Desirée closed her eyes. 

_ Desirée calling out for Dave, a gap toothed smile and the lingering of childhood still attached. She tilted backwards, a hand raised high to catch his attention. He turned to catch her before she fell. _

“I’m sure we’ve all lost enough people, done things we’ve wished we didn’t have to, but it’s like that now. 

_ Desirée watching Dave in the bedroom doorway, her eyes as clouded as the haze that surrounded him. He lifted his head, eyes too red to properly see. He could always recognize her. He pleaded for her to leave. She never left. _

“You know that! So let’s just chalk this up to what it was-”

_ Her eyes are dry as she stares down at their mother. She has fallen on the floor, her spilled guilt running red down her arms. Dave won’t be home for hours. She turns and shuts the door behind her. She will let the fire consume her before she picks her up again. _

Desirée moved forward and loaded her gun. “-wrong place, wrong-.”

She saw Dave’s body at her feet, the back of his head, of  _ him _ , sprayed out on the wall behind. He was gone, shot down by a man, by maybe a father, even a husband. She watched the door in front of her. She lifted the gun, she took aim. The man, the killer that had taken down her brother continued to talk.

She took her shot.

There comes a point in time that you have to rethink everything. Your choices, your mistakes. There can be many of these points, Desirée knew this herself. She had things to reflect upon, deeds she had committed she wasn’t the proudest of. Did she deserve to be shot down because of her past?

Dave was the troubled child. He smoked, drank, cursed like a sailor and dropped out of high school at fifteen. He wasn’t the perfect role model, but compared to Ian Parker who had a lifetime of pills shoved down his throat and Lucy Parker who cared more about herself, he was the saint in the household. He had problems, didn’t everyone? He had his demons, his own share of “what the hell did I just do?” moments.

Did he deserve to die for that?

_ One shot _ .

Was Daniel  _ Fucking _ Parker only a funny joke created by this so called God of the fucked up world they lived in?

_ Two shots _ .

Big brother, protector of the little sister who desired to get her heart broken.

_ Three shots _ .

Forever laid to rest on the barroom floor.

_ Four shots _ .

The bullets flew without her knowledge, she only thought of the dismissal of her brother. “Hey!” the man screamed. She winced and stepped back, while the other three boys raced around to their positions. “We all know this is not gonna end well! There’s nothing in it for any of us! You guys just...just back off, no one else gets hurt.” Nate stepped up, worry clear on his face.

“Desirée?” he questioned. She shook her head and stepped off the porch, leaving Nate to his own devices. He nodded to himself and followed her around the back where they spotted the door. She motioned for them to wait and took up the leader position, her gun cocked and trained. Sean grew impatient though and creeped ahead.

“Shit,” he cursed. He looked down at the bottle he had kicked and slowly passed the back door, Nate on his heels. Desirée stood back with Randall, her eyes wide and feral. She had never killed a human before; only the monsters that roamed around. Dave had killed someone once, for her, to protect her, but that was back before any of this shit had started. When killing meant a lot more.

Sean jumped back at the shot that blasted through the window. They rushed away and regrouped. “Fuck!” Sean hissed. “What do we do now?” He looked to Nate, who tried to follow Desirée, but she refused.

She couldn’t replace her brother. She wouldn’t even try to. Nate sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he breathed. He eyed each of them in turn. “I’m going for the car. You two on the roof. Sean, go for the door.” Nate rushed away, while Randall led the way to another building. 

Desirée didn’t follow. She instead went to the alley next to the building Randall was on and watched as Sean was shot down. She blinked in surprise, at a loss of how to cope without her brother. He had always been there. What was she without him?

“We gotta get outta here!” Nate called. The car scratched a stop as he yelled at the two of them.

“What about Sean?” Randall asked. Nate growled out loud in annoyance and slammed his hand down on the wheel.

“They shot him. We gotta go. Roamers are everywhere.” Randall looked scared, less like a man and more like a child.

“Are we leaving?”

“Jump!” Nate demanded. He turned his gaze onto Desirée. “Come on, Desirée.” She looked up to Randall, determined to wait. It was what Dave would have done. He hated to leave people behind, even if they were bastards and didn’t deserve it. She turned and jumped when she heard the thud of Randall’s body and his screams.

“Randall?” she called out. She climbed up onto the dumpster and attempted to cover his mouth. “Shut up! You have to be quiet.” He shook and cried out from underneath her. 

“I gotta go!” Nate cried out, his face pinched in desperation. “Come on, Desirée. Leave him.” She paused, only to move when the car rolled away.

“Help me,” Randall cried out. She stumbled off the dumpster, refused to look at the mangled mess that had become of his leg and looked across where that group was. They stared back, their morals tethered together by thin strands. “Help me. Pl-please, Des...Desirée.”

“Shut up, Randall!” she demanded. She watched as a man came running up, his eyes trained on her alone. Sean started to scream and she stepped back to Randall to avoid the sight of him being eaten alive. 

“Rick!” an older man yelled out. Two of them raced forward as the man tried to lift Randall’s leg off of the metal fence. He began to cry and reach out for anything. Desirée stepped back and watched them, the anger in her a confused mess of what was right and what was wrong. “We have to go now.”

“No!” Randall cried out. She climbed back up onto the dumpster and covered his mouth again.

“Either you save him or leave him,” she warned the strangers. She wondered which one shot her brother. What face did he last see? “Your moral is on a string here.”

“I’m sorry,” the man, Rick, said. He looked up at Desirée, his eyes sincere. “We have to go.”

“No, please don’t leave me!” He rustled away from Desirée and reached out towards the older man.

“We have to go,” the man said to the leader. He rubbed at his face and looked at Randall’s trapped leg in guilt.

“We can’t,” he said. The asian man pointed his hand straight at Desirée, his features turned to rage. 

“They were just shooting at us!” Desirée turned away from the accusation. She had taken the first shot, but they had taken down Dave. She needed to know what had happened. She needed the answer to her brother’s death. 

“He’s a kid,” she defended. She locked eyes with Rick. He was the leader and without a doubt the one that had taken her brother’s last breath. She could feel it. “And you killed my brother.” He gulped and looked over his shoulder at the asian.

“This place is crawling with walkers!” the other shouted.

“We can’t leave them,” Rick defended. He looked back to the duo and winced when Randall continued to cry out in pain. Desirée sat back, she had never been good with yelling people or helping the wounded. She sold drugs in the backyard of the school, she had grown up piling dead bodies into holes and fire, the stench of charred flesh clinging to the lining of her clothes and figured that was going to be her life, she never attempted to become good at anything else. 

The older man stepped forward to look at the leg. “The fence went clean through,” he noted. “There’s no way we can get the leg off in one piece.” The asian pushed between them and started to shake the fence, causing Randall to cry out louder.

“Shut up!” Desirée repeated, her stress at max level. She pulled her gun out and aimed it at his temple. “Shut up or I will shoot you!”

“That may be the answer,” the older man sighed. He walked away with Rick on his heels. Desirée loaded the gun and eyed Randall. He quieted down at the threat, tears running down his face.

“Listen,” she warned him. He looked up and eyed each of the three man. “If you want out of here alive, Randall, you do what they say. I’ll leave you. I’m not my brother, I’ll never be him in a million years and now? Now the one person who thought you weren’t a piece of shit is dead.”

She leaned closer and stroked the muzzle of the gun down his cheek.

“So shut the fuck up and follow me.” He nodded and bit his tongue when the other boy tried to pull at his leg.

“Sorry,” he hissed. He held up a hand for Randall to keep still. “Sh-shut up.” He stepped towards the two men and pointed back at Randall.

“But this is cruel,” the older man finished.

“Can’t we just take the leg off?” They all turned to eye Randall.

“That hackett still in the car?”

“No-no, don’t-don’t-don’t cut my leg off, please. Please, not my leg,” he pleaded. Desirée shifted her gun back into her waistband and tried to pull him back.

“Do it,” she told the man. “Do it or leave him.” Rick pulled out a small pocket knife and showed it to the older man.

“Will this cut through bone?” he questioned. The man explained what he would have to do, while Desirée pushed down his shoulders. Rick stood to the right of the dumpster and helped to keep him still.

“Oh god,” Randall whimpered. Desirée looked up at the cry of the dead and started to bite her nails. She wanted to run off, leave the man that had killed Dave, leave the fucking kid. Dave wouldn’t have left, he would have chewed through the boy’s leg if it came down to it. He despised leaving others behind because they had seen the backs of too many.

“Walkers.” She moved off the dumpster and stood beside the Asian, her gun drawn. He looked sideways at her and nodded. “Thanks for the help.” She raised the gun and took a shot.

“I’m doing this for Dave,” she admitted. She looked behind her where Rick had covered Randall’s mouth. “I would have left him. Dave wouldn’t have.” The boy gulped and stepped forward without a word.

She turned when Rick started to shoot behind them and popped off three more of them. “Hershel?” Rick called. “How are we doing over there?” 

“I need more hands!” Hershel complained. She stepped back and helped the man keep Randall still. She banged Randall’s head down to stop him, jumped when the asian started to scream at them to go and moved to help Hershel cut amongst all of the screaming. 

“Hershel!”

“There’s no time!”

“Hershel, come on!” They started to step back, causing panic to rise from Randall. He looked to Desirée who had moved with them.

“Please don’t leave me!” he pleaded. “Please. No.” She turned and shot a roamer. She moved back when Rick ripped Randall’s leg up and dragged him up the dumpster.

“Move it,” Rick demanded. They raced to the car where Randall was dumped, passed out from the pain. Desirée could barely blink before a fist came flying and she slumped down into her own darkness.


	3. The Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirée and Rick have a short conversation. Shane grows restless around the newcomers.

She woke with a headache, almost as if she was experiencing a hangover. With a groan she rolled onto her stomach and cracked an eye open, thankful, though confused at the dim shed she was greeted with. 

“What the fuck?” She tried to sit up, but grew panicked at the realization that her hands were tied. She groaned, shifted up the wall and looked around. She spotted Randall in a similar state, face down on the floor. Another look around didn’t reveal much, the inside of the shed was small and she was held with zip ties around her ankles and hands.

She vaguely had a flashback of that one weekend Dave and her took down to Vegas.

She kicked up and tossed a glare towards Randall’s unconscious body. She was alone otherwise, not that Randall had ever been much company in the months she had known him. She was just thankful he was knocked out. The kid could really  _ talk _ . 

“You’re awake.” She snapped her head up and spotted the opening of the shed. In the light stood a redneck with dark hair and a crossbow. He glared at her and stomped in, not the happiest of company. She thought the attitude was mutual. “Finally.”

“How long?” she croaked, surprised at the dryness in her throat. She attempted to crack her neck, but failed to succeed. She yawned, stretched out her feet and looked up at the stranger. “Listen, dude-”

“Daryl,” the rough man corrected. He shifted down into a chair and popped his back. He leaned forward, elbows to knees and rolled his eyes directly at her. “Daryl Dixon.”

“Well, Dixon,” she drew out. She shifted, looked up at the dusty ceiling. She remembered the sky on the roof of their apartment. Her brother. 

Where was Dave?

“Hey.” She turned, her attention caught.

“Sorry.” She coughed, her throat dry and scratchy. “I’m Desirée. Desirée Parker.” She began to laugh to herself and looked away from him. “And what a shitty situation I’ve found myself in, huh?”

“You were shooting at my people.” His glare could cut through her if she was anyone else. Hell, if her head wasn’t hurting she would have been afraid. The pain was a good distraction to fear.

Shooting. Her brother. Right. 

Dave was dead.

“They killed my brother,” she quipped back. She leaned her head against the wall behind her, eyes closed. “Do you even know his name? That he would have graduated top of his class if he had put an ounce of effort into it? What he sacrificed?”

“No.” Daryl seemed uncomfortable. It made her smile. She laughed, the sound low and tired in the back of her throat. “He shot first.”

“Liar.” She knew he wasn’t. She had always been good at that sort of thing, scary good at figuring out people’s ticks. No, this Daryl wasn’t lying, but it didn’t mean she had to believe it. It didn’t mean she had to accept any of it. 

“Think what you want. It won’t change what happened,” he grunted. He shifted, the chair creaked under his weight. “I’m here to babysit until you and the kid can walk.”

“Are we going to die?” It was a reasonable enough question. If she was, she didn’t know how to feel about that. She wanted her brother, but was she ready to greet him again? She wanted him alive, but did her loyalty pass through death?

She couldn’t answer her own questions.

“No,” he answered. He moved his crossbow to his lap, the weapon a menacing reminder to the new world. He looked to be in his element, like the new order had been waiting for tough rednecks like him. “Rick wants to take you out, release you to the wild.”

“Oh.” She yawned again and glanced sideways at Randall’s still form. “He dead?”

“I heard he had surgery. For his leg.” If only she knew this was the most Daryl had talked to anyone since the disappearance of his own brother. He almost thought to mention Merle, but decided against. She already wanted Rick’s head. 

He knew better than to hand the desperate a loaded gun.

“Where is this Rick?”

“Busy.”

“Ah, a man of few words?” She tugged at her hands, frowned when the plastic tugged at her raw skin. It wasn’t the first time she had been tied up, or even woken up tied. “Can you perhaps untie me?”

She didn’t receive a response. She sighed, blew a piece of fallen hair and settled down. The least she could do, while she waited for her fate to be decided was sleep.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Taking a nap. Mind being quiet?” She ignored his grumbling and closed her eyes.

  
  
  


When she woke again there was a new figure in the chair. She turned her attention to the man, noted the slight stubble he held and his friend behind him. Neither looked exactly pleased.

“Get up,” the friend demanded. He stomped forward, cut off the zip ties around her ankles and tugged at her tied hands. She let herself be dragged to her feet and looked over. Randall was awake as well, his eyes wide and fearful. 

“What-what?” he stuttered. He filtered his gaze between the two men. “Who are you?”

“Rick Grimes,” the one in the chair introduced. Desirée narrowed her eyes and tilted her head in his direction, mindful of her still spinning head. The man that had knocked her out and the most likely killer of her brother. She tried to step forward, but was yanked back by the man that held her hands.

“Easy there, tigress,” he chuckled. His laugh was hard, an undertone of something darker within him.

“Shane.” Rick’s voice held a warning. He knew of his friend’s anger, his growing insanity. Shane scuffed at him and dragged the girl to the door. She followed easy enough, looking behind her to catch Rick’s eye. “Let her go.”

“What?” Shane growled. He turned his anger and pushed the girl. “And let her escape?” Rick shook his head and pressed his elbows into his knees. He was tired, the bags weighed heavy upon his shoulders.

“She won’t run,” he assured. That he was confident of. “She wants me dead.” He looked up into her eyes and nodded. He knew what she felt, that every bone was telling her to leap at him and avenge her dead brother. 

He wondered if given the chance if she would truly take it. He figured she would.

“Whatever.” Shane stepped away and shoved a finger at Randall. He cowered back, winced at the strain on his leg and began to shake.

“I-I didn’t do anything,” he defended. He looked over at Desirée and nodded. “She was the one that shot first.” She rolled her eyes at him. Randall was the kid on the playground that ran and told the teacher when you said a bad word.

His lack of loyalty would get him killed. He would sell out his mother for a corn chip. He wouldn’t have stopped like Desirée had done for him.

“I don’t care who did what,” Rick stated, sounding more like a scolding father than a man holding two people captive. He stood and ruffled his greasy hair. He looked between the two prisoners, guilt plastered across his features. What disaster had he created? Was he making the right choices anymore?

He motioned for Desirée to be closer. She refused. He sighed, scratched at his arm and opened the shed door. “What?” she snapped. She tugged at her hands, an irritating sound leaving when she couldn’t break free.

“Let’s take a walk,” he suggested. He held out his hand to the light and raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Shane will watch Randall.” She glanced sideways at his hot headed friend.

“Fine,” she huffed. She marched ahead of him, but waited for him to lead the way. They started towards the barn, their footsteps light against the Earth. She looked down at her hands, long hair a fallen mess over her shoulders. “What do you want,  _ Rick Grimes _ ?” His name was a curse on her tongue, poison acid that stung.

“Your brother-”

“Dave.” She looked up at the clouds. “His name was Dave.”

“Dave then.” He looked away from her, uncomfortable with the topic at hand. “I was a cop before this. A sheriff to be exact. And yet, I’ve never shot at someone with the intent to kill. To take them down? Sure. Injure, of course, but never to kill.” He sighed, rubbed his thumb alongside his gun. A comfort mechanism. “Dave was a threat to my people. I understand, desperate times, but  _ I  _ could not risk my family's safety.”

He was the first person Rick ever purposefully killed.

Was she supposed to be relieved?

“My brother was trying to protect me.” She had pieced together that much. If Dave had acted first, it would have been on her behalf. “And Jane. That’s our cousin. She’s back with those men, alone now.”

“You will get back to her.” He didn’t mention that Shane had opposing opinions. He wanted the boy and girl dead, the threat gone. “I made a choice, Desirée.”

“It was the wrong one!” she growled. They stopped and faced one another. One was a simple man in a moraless world, the other a dependent sister with a grudge to hold. Left overs, survivalist. “Tony was a pig that deserved his fate, but my brother? Dave could have gone to MIT! He was the smartest in his class, but he dropped out for me. He is not the best person, he has made his fair share of mistakes I, myself, do not agree with, but he had a family. He had  _ me _ .”

“Liste-”

“Dave _ Fucking  _ Parker shouldn’t have had his fate decided for him. His death should have been on his terms, so,  _ Officer _ , if you’re looking for some forgiveness from me you won’t find it. All of my fucks for anyone, but Jane died with my brother.” She stepped back from him, her face red and breathing hard. “In a world like this, Rick Grimes, you have to be more aware of the consequences of your actions than ever before.”

She marched back to the shed, where Shane swung the door open and began to yell at Rick for letting her leave. She ignored the two men and slumped back down the wall, her head hung down. She wouldn’t cry, though she desperately wanted to. Dave always told her to cry in private, with just him because the others would find her weak. She wasn’t allowed to be weak.

She closed her eyes, desperate for the sweet bliss of sleep. In sleep, she didn’t have to think about the death of her brother. Jane wasn’t alone, surrounded by men that would hurt her with the news of Dave gone.

In sleep, she could be dead with her big brother.

She could be with Uncle Hayden, his sweet smile.

That night, she spotted his star falling.


	4. Shooting Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desirée asks Daryl a favor. She starts to think about everyone she has already lost.

_ Desirée pushed her bedroom door open, brown eyes fell to the open window and she dropped her bag on her bed. Dave’s side of the room was empty, not that the space fit more than their twin beds and a shared dresser. Desirée piled most of her stuff under her bed to save space, while Dave dumped what he could on top of his and over the floor. _

_ “Dave?” She stepped further in, taking care to lift her feet over the spilled container of Dave’s pot. She knew what her brother smoked. He was terrible at hiding things from her and at the age of eight she could see right through whatever he tried to bullshit.  _

_ She pushed her hair out of her face and slowly climbed onto the ledge of the open window. She held onto the side of the apartment and looked up where the makeshift ladder was. She began to climb. _

_ “You’re not supposed to be here,” a voice called out. He didn’t send her away however. Most likely, he knew the point to be moot. Once she knew how to do something on her own she rarely listened to Dave’s opinion on the matter as the typical fashion of being a younger sibling was.  _

_ “Neither are you,” she countered. She shifted across the roof until she was at his side, a smile on her lips. Dave rolled his eyes and puffed at the cigarette hanging between his lips. He leaned back on his free hand and looked up towards the crowding sky of stars.  _

_ “What do you see in the stars, Desi?” he asked of her. She shrugged and trained her attention on the sky herself. _

_ “I see us,” she announced. He raised an eyebrow and flicked the bud of his smoke over the ledge. She pointed up, her eyes darker than before. “Don’t you see, Dave? We’re in the sky.” _

_ “The stars are tied up there, Desi,” he told her. He looked down at his baby sister and smiled wide. He puffed smoke and glanced up. “From the moment we join this earth a star is stung up there on a string.” _

_ “Which one is mine?” she awed, her eyes bright. “Which one am I?” He stubbed the rest of the cigarette out and shrugged his shoulders. _

_ “We’ll know when we see a shooting star,” he replied after a minute.  _

_ “I love you,” she blurted out, the words rushed, but sincere. She looked up at him and though she was young she understood. She knew what he was telling her. He nodded, his eyes sad. _

_ “You too.” He looked up again and let out a sigh. “But it’s time to wake up now, Desi.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Time to face reality, baby sister.” _

  
  
  


For three days the two of them slept. When she woke, there was always someone standing over them. Her favorite bodyguard was Daryl, he rarely talked and seemed the least interested in them. He hated Randall though, everyone did. He chatted too easily and no one could stand him the rare times he was awake. Hershel kept him drugged up most of the time to sleep away the majority of the healing process of his leg. 

It gave everyone peace.

Desirée was left to think alone. The blonde, Andrea, came with food twice a day. Sometimes it was Carol, a sweet older lady that always passed along a kind word. She had a deep sadness about her that couldn’t be handled. 

She knew there were others, she could hear the arguments through the shed walls, but her visits were centered around six of them. The doctor, a vet he later corrected her on, stopped by twice a day to check on Randall. Rick sat quietly during his watches, in his own head. When Randall was awake, he left early, but stayed for hours when it was just Desirée. Shane hated both of them and made his time making small threats and scaring Randall. He couldn't catch Desirée off guard, so eventually he went to talking about her brother, the one trigger he knew. Daryl had a different vibe when it was his turn to babysit.

She sat back against the wood and turned her attention up. She liked to imagine the stars and with Randall sound asleep it was easy to get lost. Daryl was the babysitter for the first half of the night. He slouched in his usual chair and made work on crafting new arrows for his weapon. He rarely paid attention to what she did, confident enough she was the least of their worries.

All Desirée ever did was daydream. Dreams, she had always believed, were the escape. Dave taught her that. He taught her everything. 

She had to wonder if she would ever learn anything again without him.

She moved, her movements light enough not to distract her watcher. Dave had called her a ninja when they were children. She had an unnatural talent for light noise wherever she went. She had yet to find a downside to it, especially in the new world. Silent was the key to survival. 

She looked over at Daryl and spotted the similarities. He was Dave in some ways. The rough personality, the way he held up an appearance for everyone.

“What are you looking at?” She had been caught. She passed off a sheepish grin and met his blue eyes. He glowered back.

“You remind me of Dave,” she admitted. She dismissed the confusion across his face and shifted her position. “He was fascinated with hunting.”

“I have a brother,” he mumbled, almost reluctantly. He set aside his weapon and leaned his elbows down on his knees. “A son of a bitch he is. Merle was always into something.”

“Dave too,” she agreed. He talked as if Merle was still alive, just gone off somewhere for a visit. She didn’t know how to speak of Dave. Was her brother truly dead or was she stuck in a dream? Could she be eight again, under the stars while Dave recited the stories of the strings?

“I, uh…” he trailed off, not good with words or emotions. She smiled at him and glanced up.

“Daryl? Can I ask you a favor?” She received no answer, but guessed it was good enough. It was really childish. They hadn’t changed when Uncle Hayden left. Why would they with Dave? “Can you take me to see the stars?”

“The stars?” he responded. He straightened up and eyed her with suspicion. A small laugh left her lips and she looked into his eyes.

“When I was young, my brother told me that the stars are hung up by strings. That God places them there when someone is born and takes them down when they have left. My brother is no longer there, I wish to see.”

“What difference will it make?”

“I want to know if someone else is weeping over his loss with me. Has the sky changed from his absence?”

“It hasn’t.” Despite his words he stood and moved to unlock the handcuffs securing her to the shed’s piping. He helped her up, surprising gently with his actions and led her to the door.

The stars were on fire.

She let her shoes sink into the dirt, her eyes trained on the sky above her. She ignored Daryl’s breathes, the rustling of the trees and quiet murmurs of the rest of the camp. She imagined her brother without his star. Though she knew Daryl was correct, that the sky had not changed because truthfully she was no longer young and naive to her cherished brother’s stories, she wanted to believe  _ something _ had happened. She craved it, tasted it on her tongue and felt it rush within her veins.

Was she all that was left of Daniel Parker?

She hung her head, let the tears that fell from her eyes fall into the soil beneath her. She had yet to cry, yet to fully grieve. She had always been late to those feelings, the reactions that others seemed to experience immediately. The first week of her mother’s death when she was twelve had faded by with a fog of uncertainty that a younger version of her had not addressed until it was too late.

She had burnt every memory of her in the aftermath. Every dress, picture, every whisper of Lucy Parker had gone up in flames.

With Hayden it had been different. She had watched her uncle perish, seen the light leave his eyes. You can’t really live anymore once you’ve seen a head full of your own blood become cantaloupe on the pavement. With Hayden it had to be big.

She had come close with that one. The house was almost gone. A shaken survivor among the burning pages.

And her father.

She couldn’t remember that one. She couldn’t remember any of it. She only knew that Dave refused to talk about it - and she wasn’t allowed to see their childhood home anymore.

Her boyfriend, Jared, was the only one that had been taken after the world became fucked. Ripped right from her hands. She tried to hold on. She tried so fucking hard.

That one she remembered. Dave had helped gather the last of the gasoline and they had sent Jared’s precious muscle car aflame. He fucking loved that car. His father helped him fix it. He hadn’t ever really loved her - nor did she love him. He was familiar, safe. She felt more guilty than anything.

How many times did she have to say goodbye?

She blinked away the stray tears in her eyes and sniffed, unable to face her breaking sanity. She had never been anything without Dave, she had never learned. He had done a few stints in juvie in their younger years, but he always made it back to her.

He always came back to his baby sister. She turned her head and gazed over at Daryl’s still form. He stood close, a cigarette perched on his lips, ready to jump for her if she decided to take her chances. If she had seen the point in running she would have found a more logical way to make it. Only Randall would have been stupid enough to bolt at that moment.

She wandered back into the shed without his coaxing and slid down the splintered wall. He clicked the handcuffs in place and took his silence again. She began to lose her mind in the stars. 


	5. 18 Miles Out

Desirée had never pondered how she would die. She found it morbid, useless, which was strange considering how many people she knew were already dead. Nevertheless, the day daylight busted into the shed and Shane yanked her to her feet she began to wonder what it would be like.

“Come on,” Rick demanded. He dragged Randall to his feet, ignored the boy’s pained groans and stumbled with him out into the light. Shane wasn’t gentle with his grip on  Desirée ’s arm and painfully dug his nails into her soft flesh. She winced, but refrained from crying out and blindly followed the two men. They led the two prisoners to an SUV where Rick was quick to gag and tie up Randall.

“Wh-where are you taking us?” Randall gasped around the gag.  Desirée kept quiet, her fear a robber of her voice. She swallowed and stepped back when Shane slipped a rope over her hands. He glared at her, tightened it to the point her circulation was cut off and shoved her. She looked around, searching for a face that could save her from her fate.

Her brother wasn’t there, however. He was gone, left to rot in an unknown town because of a mistake by a man. She turned and gazed up at Rick; she had to wonder if he was considered a man or was he a beast? What did you become after you stained your hands with another’s blood? Dave had before for revenge, after their uncle had been taken he had tracked down the men responsible for the order after  Desirée had watched Hayden’s blood stain the street before her, a head full of her own blood left on the pavement.

Now, her brother was gone. Another head full of blood she shared spilled across cracking floors and taken without a say. Just like her father and uncle. Would her life be taken the same way? The last time she ever saw her father she was fifteen and he was laid out on the living room floor, her uncle took his final breaths in front of her, she found her mother in the bathroom, her brother was left to rot, her boyfriend eaten. All of them taken.

She never knew anyone who died on their own terms or naturally. Each life had been taken out whether with a knife, gun or pills. Not all of them fought it, but did they deserve it?

“Come here,” Rick coaxed. He took her aside, more gentle in his ways and wrapped a blindfold over her eyes. “We’re going to take you guys out and let you go. I can’t risk you coming back here.” She nodded, her throat still constricted. She stayed still when headphones were placed on her head and she was led into the trunk alongside Randall.

She ignored Randall’s squirming throughout the trip. Rick checked the ropes halfway through, but between the blasting music and darkness she didn’t see or hear anything. He wasn’t harsh with her, though she heard Randall thrashing around. She had a feeling that while he did not trust her, there was some sympathy in him. She could only hope that it would extend her life.

She felt it when the car stopped minutes later and held her breath. However, they were not taken out of the vehicle immediately. She knew they were securing a sight and kicked Randall to get him to stop moving around. He stopped when the SUV jumped and the engine fired up.

Nevertheless, they did not move far. Once again the trunk popped open. She felt someone grab her and lead her onto her feet. She knew it to be Shane by the rough hands on her arm and hissed in pain when he tripped her. Was she finally going to die?

Would Dave be happy to see her again?

What about her parents? Her uncle? Jared?

They dragged the both of them up. She kept stumbling and vaguely heard above the pounding the sound of Rick and Randall’s heavy pants. She was brought to her knees, winced when the light hit her again and almost fell back when Shane ripped the tape off her mouth. The headphones were removed and she breathed a sigh of relief. They had been giving her a headache.

She looked up and frowned at their two captures. Beside her, Randall shook his head, his chest heaving. “The hell is this?” he asked, turning his head around their surroundings.  Desirée kept quiet. Shane and Rick didn’t answer, turned and started their trek back to the car. “Oh come on! Don’t be stupid. I owe you guys!”

“Shut up,” she demanded, angry at his stupidedly. She wanted to reach out to smack him, however the ropes around her wrists denied her the pleasure. “Let them go.”

He ignored her. “I can help you protect what you got,” he offered, incredibly desperate. She didn’t understand why he was. Sure, they didn’t know where they had been dumped, but that was something further down the road. They were being left  _ alive _ for god’s sake. Why couldn’t he shut his damn mouth? “Why would you save our lives just to kill us by leaving us here?” 

Oh, fuck, he really was stupid. She twisted around with him and gritted her teeth. “Let it  _ go _ , Randall.” She didn’t want to be dragged down with him when he pissed the two men off. She wouldn’t protect him any longer no matter what Dave would want. It was time to think for herself.

Dave was gone. She had to learn how to stand without him. She had never done it before, but she was anything if not determined.

“One guy...one guy and  _ girl _ can’t make it alone.” She cursed under her breath when their speed slowed down. No. She didn’t want Shane nor Rick near her. She didn’t want the breath of her brother’s killer to hit her again. “That’s why I was with those dudes...I-I was alone.”

Rick dropped a knife. She almost smiled, but became distracted by Randall’s continued desperation. She was about to kill him herself if he didn’t shut up. “Don’t be stupid,” he repeated. “I’m not like those guys.”

Was he including Dave in that sentence? Tony and Nate, she understood. Sean too though he hadn’t been the worst of them. But Dave? He wasn’t even  _ close _ to those men.

He tried to follow them, tripped and squirmed around on his back. She sat back, quietly to not draw attention and began to twist her tied hands. She lifted her knees, slipped the rope over her shoes and brought her hands up to her chest. She had been meant to slip the ropes, it made it easy.

“I’m just some guy,” he pleaded, trying to save himself. He seemed to have forgotten about her altogether. “I used to watch football and screw around on the internet.” Appearing to their better side? She knew one had a conscious, though she doubted the morality of the other. 

“ _ I lived with my mom! _ ” So desperate. Why were dying men so desperate? “I lost her like you lost people. I went to school with Maggie for God’s sake!”

“Idiot!” she snapped, fear squeezing her heart. He was going to get them  _ both _ killed. “You fucking idiot.” She loved her brother, but she had to see him again on her  _ own _ terms. She was the last of her line and she damn well had to make sure someone in the Parker tree died naturally or even by some terminal disease. Let her get cancer or something. 

She gasped when Rick stopped and turned around. It was the end. He was going to beat him to death and then kill her by simple association.

“I went to church,” he persisted. “I rode the bench on varsity baseball.” She heard the gravel under Rick’s feet shift.

“You went to school with Maggie?” he bellowed. Randall paused at the pure fury etched into his face. “Answer the question! Did you go to school with Maggie?”

“I-it-she didn’t know me,” he backtracked.  Desirée stumbled back, her heart tore itself out of her chest and began to quiver on the ground in front of her. “Didn’t even know I existed.” They stopped, paced around and made to move back. “I mean I knew her. I knew who her dad was. There is now way I would ever do anything to hurt her or her family.”

She was going to fucking kill him if Rick didn’t get to him first. How could someone be such a fuckup?

“Why can’t you keep your mouth  _ shut _ ,” she hissed. She paused, watched them pace away to talk amongst themselves. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.”

“Or your people,” he pressed on. She moved and bit the ropes around her wrist. She was getting the fuck out. “I’m not like the guys I was with.” Randall was a dead man.

She had found the end of the rope when she heard a yell. She jumped, reflexes causing her to fall back as a bullet bounced across the ground in front of her. If she had not moved it would have been her the bullet hit. She looked around and saw Shane slumped on the ground, Rick above him.

“Not now,” he demanded. “Just not now.” Angry, Shane smacked his arm on the door of the car he hit.

“Well.” He lifted his hand in a challenge. “When Rick? When?” Rick kicked the gun away.

“When I’ve had a chance to think about it,” he replied, his tone serious. Randall caught on and once again acted like an idiot that wanted to die.

“Please don’t let him kill me. Please don’t.”

“Shut up!” Rick and  Desirée shouted. She cowered back at the eyes he swept over her, but fortunately his anger was not directed at her. He walked a few paces and directed something lost to her at Shane.

She jumped when Shane spat back. “You’re gonna bring this piece of garbage...this piece of garbage who...he shot at you, Rick. He ran with men who tried to kill you.” He stood up and turned his anger around. “And  _ her _ ! What about her, Rick? Going to shoot her now? She took the first shot at you. Are you going to bring them both back to where Lori sleeps? To where Carl sleeps?”

“They’ll both be locked up in the barn,” Rick tried to reason. He stalked forward. “Unless you bust it open.” Though the reason behind the comment was lost to her  Desirée saw the signs of anger on Shane’s face. It made her nervous. She could tell he wasn’t the type of man that asked questions first; no, he was the shoot first, don’t ever tell type.

If only she knew how right she really was.

“Oh, don’t start that shit,” Shane defended himself. Rick turned his back.

“I’m taking the night.”

“Man, you take that...you think on it, Rick. Keep struggling with it.” Rick turned again, his face twisted. “It ain’t hard, man. The right choice is the one that keeps us alive. It’s always the same with you. It’s like the first moment...it’s whenever you’re put to the test.” He came close to Shane again, his knees bent.

“Stop acting like you know the way ahead, like you know the rules,” he scuffed. He tilted his head. “There are no rules, man. We’re lost.” Once again, he started to pace.

“No,” Shane denied. “I know exactly where I am.”

“You don’t know shit anymore.”

“I don’t think you can do it, Rick.” He shook his head, his tone harsh.  Desirée looked over at Randall who stayed frozen on the ground. Quick, she tugged at the end of the rope and worked it through the knots. She was a bit rusty, it had been a couple of years. 

“It’s my call, man.”

“I don’t think you can keep them safe,” Shane countered. Rick glared at him and licked his lips.  Desirée knew that look. Dave had worn it many times before fist went flying and so she only worked faster when Rick launched himself at Shane. They both grunted at the weight until Shane headbutted Rick.

Rick fell with Shane on top. He grabbed Rick’s gun and stumbled back when Rick jumped and sent the weapon flying, his curled knuckles landing on Shane’s face with rage. He kept hitting and kneed the other man, so he hunched over himself in automatic protection. However, Rick kept coming.

Randall, snapped out of his trance, saw the fight and eyed the knife Rick had left.  Desirée noticed, though she figured she would waste more time traveling towards the knife than simply undoing the knots herself. She had gotten rather good at untying knots in high school and could successfully untie and then retie just about any of them. He began to shift to the weapon, while  Desirée leaned up against the bus and worked on loosening her restraints. The grown man continued to pound one another.

She winced at Rick’s yell and glanced over to see a motorcycle on top of him. She watched Shane travel towards the second gun and, knowing after he finished Rick she wouldn’t be far behind, snarled her teeth together. However, he marched towards Randall’s view and aimed the gun up. She almost yelled out, but refrained from it and got the first set of loops undone.

“No!” She jumped. Rick tackled Shane again and they fell out of sight behind a firetruck. She heaved several gulps of air, checked Randall’s progress and let the ropes from her wrist fall freely away. She started on her legs once Randall reached the weapon and tried to cut his own confides away. 

The knife was duller than he anticipated and did not slice clean through.  Desirée rolled her eyes. She had known it was a waste of time. She leaned forward, slipped the ropes around her ankles off and shakily stood on her feet. She didn’t get a chance to start running before a window broke.

She paused and watched in horror as a roamer tumbled from the glass. Rick, startled, stumbled to his feet and knocked the roamer down. He stabbed its eye, tried to catch his breath, but was once again attacked by another appearance of the dead. She watched them run after Shane and dove to the ground, crawling underneath the bus behind her. In front of her, Randall began to panic.

Shane led them out of sight however unintentional. Nevertheless, one caught sight of Randall and marched her way towards him. She considered helping, remembered his selfish ways and tried to crawl out on the other side of the bus. She didn’t pause when she heard Randall on his feet and the cracking of a bone. It was survival of the fittest and  Desirée was damn well fitter than Randall.

She got to her feet, peeked around the bus to see Randall stabbing the walker. She was almost impressed. She had expected him to die far quicker. She ran around him, stumbled on her feet and winced when she connected with a sharp piece of glass.

_ Bang _ .

She snapped up, scared. No. She turned, hand over her heart and froze.

_ Bang _ .

Uncle?

He was already dead. He had been taken before her. She could still taste the metallic sting of blood on her lips.

Did Dave’s limbs fold up like Hayden’s after he was shot? Did he curl into himself, no longer a man larger than life?

She couldn’t be a monster like Tony or Nate and leave. They would have left for themselves. Maybe even found the dropped gun and shot both Shane and Rick in the back of the head. Randall too. She didn’t want to be them, but-

_ Bang, bang, bang _ .

She didn’t want to die like them. Like Hayden and Dave.

She sighed, gathered herself and ducked ahead. She raced ahead, spotted Rick grab Randall and tug him backwards. She cursed and ran after.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” he hissed at Randall. They talked, while she creeped closer, careful of Rick. She watched his eye on the gun and reached forward to grab it.

“I’m not killing you today,” she assured, her feet spread apart. She had to establish that first. She nodded at him and twisted the gun around to hand back. “But I’m not going to be Tony or any of those other guys. I’m still living. I’m living for Dave.”

“Okay,” he said after a minute. He nodded back at her. Understanding for the time being. They weren’t the ones at each other’s throats. 

“There’s ten roamers there,” Randall announced. She frowned, marched forward and smacked him as hard as she could. He, surprisingly, held back a cry of pain and swallowed. He had bitten his lip.

“Shut up,” she demanded. She met Rick’s eye. “What’s the plan?”

“Let’s go,” he mumbled. He grabbed the back of Randall’s jacket and shoved him along. “He did this. We’re going.”

“Thank god,” Randall sighed.  Desirée shook her head, but nevertheless kept her tongue and followed after. They raced around the chain linked fence,  Desirée in front with Randall behind her.

“Where to?” she questioned, at a loss of which direction they had entered. Rick pointed and they picked up pace. He stopped beside two bodies and shoved Randall.

“Stay there,” he demanded. He paused, eyed  Desirée . He must have decided something for he didn’t say anything towards her and approached the dead roamers. He bent, took a gun from one of the holsters and straightened. There was a nostalgic look in his eyes.

“You know.” She paused, looked behind her where she could still hear Shane struggling for his life. “I don’t like him. In fact, I hate him almost worse than I hate you.” She heard him scuff. “Yet, I came back to help you. Someone I hate, a stranger.”

“Come on,” he roughly responded, though she could tell he didn’t mean it harshly. He jerked his head at her, grabbed Randall and led them towards the SUV. 

“Let’s go!” Randall whooped.  Desirée knew better. They were going back. She didn’t need to listen to Rick’s plan to know that. They climbed in,  Desirée behind the wheel.

Randall, confused, began to yell.  Desirée fired the car up and motioned for Rick to get into position. He hesitated, then shook his head and sent her a determined nod.

“Act fast,” she said. He nodded and she twisted the car so it hit the gate straight on, her hands shaking around the leather underneath them. 

“Shane!” Rick yelled. He fired the gun as she sped the SUV around the school bus. “Go for the back door!”

“Come on!” she added. She turned the wheel, hard, and barely paused long enough to feel the weight shift from Shane’s jump. She put it in reverse, ignored the yelling around her and spun the car towards the safety of the open road.

“Oh hell!” Randall cried out in the back seat. He kicked at Shane’s flailing limbs. “Did you see what we just did?”

“We?”  Desirée frowned, glancing up at the rearview mirror. Rick snapped back at him to keep quiet. She pressed the pedal down more and felt the car jump beneath her. She frowned at the guilt eating her bones; the beginning of a betrayal sharp and bleeding.

Had she betrayed her brother? She had saved the man that killed him after all. What would Dave think of her?

Further down the road Rick had her pull over. She did as told, sweat beginning to slip down her face. She didn’t know what he would do. Sure, she had saved his life, but at what cost?

She winced when Randall was grabbed by Shane. He was dragged out and quickly tied back up. Rick turned to her, his eyes conflicted. She understood, however. She always seemed to in the end.

“It’s fine,” she sighed. She stared straight ahead, her brows furrowed together. “I get it.”

“Thank you,” he spoke up. He twisted and grabbed extra rope from the back. “For saving me, for helping. You risked everything. Why?”

“Dave would have,” she announced. She wiped at her eyes and sniffled. When she looked back over there was remorse in her brother’s killer’s eyes. She hated it. “However, I don’t know what he would do now. Did I make my brother proud, Rick?”

“Yes.” He gave her a grim smile and motioned for her to exit. She nodded, opened the car door and waited for Rick to place her back in the backseat. She at the very least got special treatment.

Nevertheless, she doubted Rick. She knew Dave wouldn’t have left them to die like that. However, would he have accepted her choices? Would her brother understand the reason she didn’t run?

Would he hate her for not killing Rick the second they had been alone? She had the knife in her boot. She had taken it from Randall. She should have killed him. She should have done it for Dave, for herself.

In the end,  Desirée Parker wasn’t a killer.

Not yet.


	6. Judge, Jury, Executioner

Her head wasn’t right. She heard Randall crying, but her head was elsewhere. In fact, it wasn’t anywhere. It just...was.

“Did you ever pick off a scab?” Daryl’s voice cut through.  Desirée winced when Randall’s pleads bled into her head. She curled, desperate to block the sound out.

It was too familiar. The blood that fell from Randall too fresh.

“Start real slow at first.” He was better than her at ignoring the cries. She turned away from the scene, scared. They had yet to question her, though she didn’t think it would be too pretty when her turn came around either. “Sooner or later, you’ve just gotta rip it off.”

“Okay,” she spoke before Randall. She felt the tears dry on her cheeks and cowarded back when Daryl’s head snapped towards her. “They have weapons. Heavy stuff too, automatics and those kinds of things.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Randall injected, his stupidly running even more rampant when he was hurting. She didn’t get the chance to snap back before Daryl leaned closer to his face and spit.

“Your boys shot at my boys.” He didn’t mention that  Desirée had shot first, though she knew that he knew. He had said so upon their first meeting. “Tried to take this farm. You just went along for the ride? You’re trying to tell me you’re innocent?” 

“Yes!” Randall breathed out, his tone pleading. He looked over at  Desirée . “Her-her brother took me in. Not just guys though, there’s a whole group of ‘em. Men and women, kids too. Just like you people.”

Her head flashed back to Jane. Was her cousin still alive? Were Ben and Bailey?

Daryl stood, his glare harsh when Randall continued to stammer. She wanted to hit him again. “Thought I’d have a better chance with them, y’know? Dave-” She fell into her head at the stabbing pain that came with that sound. “-he tried his best. But, we’d go out, scavenge, just the men. Not all of us though.”

“Not  _ Dave _ ,”  Desirée spat despite herself. She swallowed back her fear. If she was going to die she wouldn’t let them think anything ill of her brother. “Not my brother.”

“No-no,” Randall admitted. He was shaking. “But...but one night we found this little campsite. A man and his two daughters. Teenagers, you know? Real young, real cute.”

No.  Desirée snapped her head up, the anger hot within her. Dave had told them to stay away. To not drag Randall into that mess. 

Daryl caught on fast and turned his body. Randall ducked his head. “Their daddy had to watch while these guys...they.” She moved slowly, not drawing the anger of Daryl to her. She was going to kill him before anyone else. “And they didn’t even kill him afterward. They just...they just made him watch as his daughters...They just-just left him there.”

“Please!” He paused, confused. It wasn’t Daryl that hit first. No. He blinked and drew his foot back. When he looked it was  Desirée upon him, her fist connected with soft flesh.

Her confines were gone, hinting she had known how to slip the ropes for a while now. Daryl twisted his expression, his head spinning over the enigma of a girl that was before him. 

“You  _ bastard _ ,” she screeched, her anger too hot. She fell back, snapped out her foot and watched in sick satisfaction when it connected to his injured leg. “You disgusting bastard. Dave told you not to go! He said to leave them alone! You fucking-” She cried out when she felt arms drag her away.

In her rage, she didn’t register what she was doing. She knocked her arm back and hit Daryl in the chest. He didn’t let go. He tightened his hold on her and stumbled back. He thought she wouldn’t stop.

“Calm down,” he instructed her. He set her down when she nodded, her hair a wild mess around her. He nodded back. He understood her rage. Most importantly, he knew she had known nothing about that.

He waited a minute longer, leading her back to where she had slipped the ropes again. He tightened them more than the previous time. Rick had told them what she did, but claimed she was still too unpredictable. There was a lot of confusion around camp with the young girl. 

When he left  Desirée began to sob. Randall ignored her, too wrapped up in his own problems. She was lost, so unbelievably lost. She had no idea what would happen and that scared her. She had always known when Dave was alive, she could tell by looking at him if it was going to be okay or not.

_ Is this what you do now? _

No.

_ Is this what you’ve turned into? _

She whimpered at the voice in her ear, the breath that sent shivers down her spine. She wasn't crazy, her brother wasn't back from the dead.

_ Making buddies with my killer and his pals. _

Daniel  _ Fucking  _ King Parker appeared before her in all his hallucinated glory. Blood dripped from a hole in his head, his clothes stained red as the day he died. He smiled at her, almost as if he was truly there. He was dead, he was dead. He wasn’t around to protect her anymore.

_ What did I tell you, Desi? Don’t trust the enemy. Once they stab you once-or in my case shoot you in the head-there’s no turning back. _

Was it her turn to visit the family Parker grave?

_ Finish the fight, sister. Finish  _ my _ fight. _

She kicked a foot out, lips parted when nothing met the place his ankle was. Where his ankle  _ wasn't  _ because he wasn't real. A figment, a nightmare her brain decided to keep her company with. She missed her brother, his cheesy jokes and how she always knew he would be right at her side. Once, he was her hero, the one that tucked her in and told her to close her eyes from the monsters inside his head.

He loved her. He hated her. She shoved a knife through his back by saving his killer.

_ Desi, where are you now? _

Almost home, big brother, almost home.

  
  
  


Daryl marched towards the group, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. His knuckles, bloody and bruised, didn’t escape anyone’s notice. “Boy there’s got a gang. Thirty men,” he announced. “They have heavy artillery and they ain’t looking to make friends. They roll through here, our boys are dead. And our woman, they’re gonna-they’re gonna wish they were.”

“What did you do?” Carol questioned, her voice soft. He ducked his head, shrugged and made to walk away.

“Had a little chat.”

“No one goes near this guy,” Rick took up. He thought of the girl. She had helped him, but there was the fact that he shot her brother. He knew that wasn’t going to be brushed off. “Or the girl.”

“Rick, what’re you gonna do?” Lori piped up.

“We have no choice. He... _ they’re _ a threat.” He really didn’t want to kill the girl, but there were decisions to be made. He couldn’t risk it. “We have to eliminate the threat.”

“You’re just going to kill them?” Dale asked, his tone accusing.

“It’s settled,” Rick defended. “I’ll do it today.” He walked off. Flabbergasted, Dale followed behind his steps away from the group. 

“You can’t do this,” he pleaded. “You don’t  _ want _ to do this. I know you don’t.” Rick turned his head, his pace quick.

“I thought about it all night,” he admitted. “Knowing what we know now I don’t see a way out of it.”

“And the girl?” Dale pressed. “She saved your life, Rick. You said it yourself. You can’t just decide on your own to take someone’s life.”

“The group seemed supportive.”

“What, because they didn’t speak back?” He threw a hand up, his annoyance clear. “You didn’t let ‘em.” He turned and stopped Rick from walking. “There’s gotta be a...a process.”

“And would that be?” Rick countered, waving his own hand around. “We-we can’t call witnesses, go before a judge.” Dale held up his hands, desperate to be heard. 

“So they’re automatically guilty by association and sentenced to death? He’s just a kid! You shot her brother.” He leaned forward, hot and scared. He felt if he did nothing he would be killing them himself. “Gimme some time to talk to everyone…”

“We can’t-”

“..Try to figure out another way-”

“No, we can’t drag this out,” Rick interrupted, his voice growing in volume. He sighed, brought it back done and pointed off towards the group. “People are scared.”

Dale threw up his hands. “ _ Which _ is why they need time to discuss this.”

“No, no, no they need to be safe.” He leaned closer. Nevertheless, it was not a threat. A simple claim if anything. “I owe ‘em that.” He turned and began to walk once again.

Dale, persisted, marched with him. He pointed a finger. “You think about your son.” Rick slowed and faced him. “The message that you’re giving him. Shoot first, think later.” Rick lifted one shoulder, the emotions on his face twisted. Dale pressed on. “I’m asking for one day to talk to everybody. You can give me that. Think-think about Carl.”

“I am,” Rick frowned. He sighed and shifted his weight. “We reconvene at sunset, then what happens happens.” He raised a brow, daring Dale to argue against him. The aging man did not and let Rick go.

  
  
  


_ What’re you going to do now, baby sister? _

“Leave me alone.”

_ Sorry, Desi. I’m here to stay. _

“Why…?” Desirée looked upon the bloody figure of Dave, her breath caught in her throat. She heard Randall say something in the back of her head, but he was lost to her. Randall no longer mattered.

_ I’m your brother _ , the ghost of Dave retorted.  _ Where else would I be? _

Dead. He was supposed to be dead. She ducked her head and pulled her knees closer to her chest. The rope was uncomfortable and dug into her painfully. It reminded her that she was still alive.

She didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

_ You’re alone now, Desi. _

She knew that. Her dead brother was an asshole. Or perhaps, it was the truth her subconscious was spitting back at her. She was on her own; without Dave, without Jane.

_ You have to fight this. _

“They’re gonna kill me right?” She glanced up, annoyed, at the sudden shout of Randall’s voice. He looked over at her, his face pinched. “Kill us?”

“Just be quiet,” she pleaded, her energy drained from attacking him. She pressed her knees closer, desperate to ignore the figure that lingered nearby. Dave leaned against the shed wall and nonchalantly lit up a smoke. It seemed he was settling in to stay as promised.

Randall ignored her and instead used his foot to bring a chair closer to him. He climbed on top of his, listening to the voice of a kid.

“Can I see him?” the young boy questioned.

“No,” Shane’s voice filters through.  Desirée shivered despite herself, her body growing cold. She had a bad feeling about the man. There was something dark in him, something she hadn’t seen in a long time. “Look, man, this is-this is grown-up stuff, all right?”

_ Grownup _ , Dave snickered. His dead eyes lit up and he blew out a ring of smoke.  _ Remember when I tried to pull that with you, Desi? You’ve always been so stubborn. _

“You couldn’t keep anything from me,” she agreed. Randall turned his head, his brows pressed together.

“You say something?” he asked. She shook her head and glowered at him. He was the last person she wanted to talk to. She would take the dead figment of her brother over Randall’s company. He didn’t take offense and instead turned his attention to the outside world again.

More voices were filtering through. Shane and a girl.  Desirée thought it was Andrea, or maybe Carol, but she wasn’t sure. Dave was better at picking up the slight accents and tones in other people. He had a good knack for it. 

She jumped when she heard another noise and tried to twist her neck to see. Dave was gone and replaced by him in their company was a young boy with a sheriff hat. Randall became excited, his mind running, thinking he was going to get saved.

“Don’t, Randall,” she warned him. He had never listened to her before and he didn’t take it upon himself to start then.

“Hey,” he whispered.  Desirée stumbled to her feet, wincing when the ropes rubbed at her raw wrist. Daryl really had made them tighter. The boy’s eyes flickered over to her, before Randall’s movement caught his attention again. “That’s a sweet hat. I’m Randall. Over there...that girl is  Desirée . What’s your name?”

The boy didn’t respond, his face pressed into an imitation of the officer’s. It wasn’t hard for  Desirée to make the connection and, unfortunately, Randall caught on too. He was smart for being such a fucking idiot.

“The sheriff guy,” he pressed, raising his brow in question. “That's your dad? I like him. Yeah, he’s a good guy. I can tell.” Nevermind the fact that he had murdered  Desirée ’s brother. Forget all about that. “Your mom out here too?”

“Randall,” she hissed. The kid tilted his head, still silent. She had to applaud him for that. Most children were constantly chattering, never able to shut up.  Desirée hadn’t been much of a talker herself when she was a kid. “Just stop talking. You’re going to get us shot.”

“It’s fine,  Desirée ,” he shook off. He looked back up at the boy. “You know...you’re-you’re lucky you still got your family. I lost mine. Hey, I-I don’t know what people have been saying about me, but I didn’t do nothing. I swear. And-and her,  Desirée , she good people. She just lost her brother.”

She glared at him hard enough to make him back off. She wanted to snap, to punch him again even, but she knew better. She had years of training on how to hold her tongue and she wasn’t about to have someone barging in. It would kill the both of them.  
“Your dad was gonna let us go before his friend started fighting with him,” Randall continued. The kid started to move and climbed down from the rafters, steering clear of both Randall and Desirée’s grasps. She had to give him props for that. “It got pretty bad. I-I was kinda worried. My camp, we got lots of supplies. You help me, I’ll take you and your folks back to my people. We’ll take good care of you.”

Desirée thought back to Jane, something heavy in her chest. She hoped her cousin was okay, that Jane wasn’t as lost as her. She knew, though, that the camp was lost without Dave. Ben might be able to hold it up for a while longer, but sooner or later he would fall. She knew the news must have gotten back to them and Jane would refuse to leave without  Desirée .

She had done the same thing, refusing to travel any further without Jane. Thankfully, Dave loved their cousin too and agreed to pick her up. They should have left when  Desirée first thought about it. 

“Just help me pick these locks or find the key, okay?” Randall continued.  Desirée grew tense when she saw how close the kid was to him. She knew Randall, knew how he liked to play with people. She had a talent for it too, for manipulation, but she only used it as a last resort. Randall did it without thought, trying to play every angle. 

She shifted when Randall did, ready to defend the kid. “Get away from him,” she warned. The kid jumped back and all three of them were startled when the shed doors opened. Shane stomped in, angry and mean with the gun in his waistband too close.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” he frowned. He marched towards Randall, fist at his sides. “What did you say to him? What did you say to him, huh?” He pulled the gun out and slammed Randall against the wall.

Desirée jumped back and closed her eyes. “I didn’t say nothing!” Randall lied. Shane pushed him further and raised the gun to his temple.  
“Hey, hey-” Andrea tried. 

“Let me tell you something I will shoot you where you sit,” he growled out. Randall raised his chin and pressed his lips together in an effort to not let Shane stick the gun between them.

“Okay Shane, not now,” Andrea demanded. She made to step forward, while  Desirée curled more into herself.

“Open your mouth,” he spat out, trying to rip Randall’s jaw open.

“ _ Shane _ ,” Andrea repeated.

“You like talking, man?” He raised on his toes and pressed harder, sure to leave a bruise when he was done. “You like talking, huh?”

“Back off!” Andrea yelled. Shane huffed, but took several steps back. He placed the gun in his waistband again, his eyes on fire. He turned around to the small boy. 

“Get your ass out this door. Let’s go,” he gritted out. He dragged the boy out. Andrea followed after them, putting them back in the dim light.

“Do you always have to be a fucking idiot?”  Desirée sighed. Randall frowned, blinking reflex tears away from his eyes.

“Me?” he frowned. “I was trying to get us out of here!”

“Like an idiot!” she countered. She sighed and raised up a hand to tug through the knots in her hair. “ _ That _ is not how you go about it, kid.”

“They don’t ever go after  _ you _ ,” he spat back. He wiped at his eyes and turned his head away from her. “They’re not gonna kill you.”

“Because I’m being smart and actually using my head,” she scuffed. She ignored whatever he mumbled back, tired of dealing with him. Randall could drain a lot out of a person.

  
  
  


Desirée was startled awake late at night. The shed door banged open and Rick, Shane and Daryl marched in. She wasn’t stupid and despite the sleep still clinging to her eyes she knew what it meant.

She had expected death to be sooner honestly. 

She was yanked to her feet by Shane, though he was quickly shoved away. Daryl’s surprisingly softer hands replaced him as he led her out of the shed. Shane took ahold of Randall instead, who started to talk in his panic.

“Hold on, hold on,” Randall pleaded.  Desirée looked away from him and up at the stars. Her eyes were burning from the lights above, the sky still unchanged even after the death of her brother. A part of her hoped it still looked the same because Dave was alive. Somehow, someway he had survived.

She didn’t hold onto that for long. She only had to look to her left where Dave marched alongside her, his cheeky grin right in place.

_ We’ll be together soon enough, Desi _ . He promised her. He frowned, though, like even a dead Dave didn’t want to watch her die.

Rick opened the door to the barn and led them deeper inside.  Desirée shifted her hair over her eyes, so she wouldn’t have to look at Dave any longer. Behind her, Daryl exhaled a shaky breath.

“I let you see the stars again,” he whispered. His voice was rough despite the kindness of his words. She nodded, her own words gone. She was usually so good at talking to people, at getting them to do what she wanted, but when she needed them the most they escaped her.

“Wait, wait,” Randall pleaded. Rick pointed to a spot across the barn and the two of them were set down there.  Desirée tried to spot the stars again, but they were blocked off. She felt disappointed.

_ It’s okay, Desi _ . Dave soothed. He tried to brush a hand through her hair like when they were children, but he was unable to. A ghost couldn’t touch her. She wanted to reach out, to be wrapped in his protective arms again.

“Dave….” she whispered. She winced when a blindfold was placed over her eyes. The men and her brother fell away and she shivered on the barn floor. Randall pleaded in the background, but not  Desirée . She had been taught never to beg, never to cry or appear weak.

Weakness led to death. Though, she didn’t see the point when she knew she was about to meet it. She kneeled down and heard Randall forced beside her. 

“Do you have any final words?” Rick questioned. She could feel the metal in his hands from where she knelt. She knew what it would taste like, how loud the bang would be. She could see her head flying back, her life gone like her uncle, like her father, mother, brother and boyfriend. So many fucking people.

“No, please,” Randall cried.  Desirée lifted her head, unable to see, but she could still point out where Rick stood. 

“Can I tell you something, Officer?” He made a noise in the back of his throat. She took it as a sign to continue.

_ Desi, don’t. _

“You told me that you’ve never shot with the intention to kill before. Now you will. How does it feel, Rick? To finally kill someone?”

_Desirée_ _Elaine._

A warning. For the first time in her life she ignored her brother.

“Yes, my brother was not a perfect man, but neither are you, Rick Grimes. He never killed without exhausting everything beforehand, but you? I think you  _ want _ this. You want us out of your hands. I can’t blame you...my uncle would do the same.”

Desirée had loved Hayden, but he had not been a good man. Her own upbringing under his watchful eye was proof enough. Jane had gotten lucky, she lived with her mother, and she only saw Hayden and her cousins around the holidays, when they were forced on their best behavior.

She could still smell the stink of burnt flesh on her clothing. 

Rick knew nothing about the girl’s uncle, though he had a feeling the comparison was not a compliment. He swallowed and pressed the gun to Randall’s temple. Him first, then the girl. He paused, the girl’s words running through him.

“Do it, Dad,” Carl spoke. Rick looked over, angry to see his son. Carl nodded at him. “Do it.” Rick looked over at Shane who moved towards Carl.

“Are you kidding me?” he hissed over Randall’s sobs and  Desirée ’s strange quietness. “What did I say to you?” He grabbed a hold of Carl and dragged him from the barn.

Rick faltered and clicked the gun. He backed off and looked away from Randall. “Take them away,” he demanded.  Desirée shifted her head around, trying to see through her own blindfold. “Take them away.” He walked away, the girl’s words still running, his son’s presence squeezing at him.

“Come on,” Daryl said. He helped her to her feet. She heard him drag Randall up and led them both away from their death. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Dave,” she whispered to herself. She felt her brother beside her.

_ Good girl, Desi, good girl _ .

She wasn’t dying yet.


	7. Better Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank all of you for the comments on this story! They give me such a rush to write, so please continue to do so.  
> I wanted to say sorry for the long wait. I work the night shift at a restaurant, so it makes for a hectic schedule. I hope you guys enjoy this one though! It was a very important chapter to write and I hope everything is to your liking.

Daryl Dixon never thought he had a choice in matters. With Merle, before things became so fucked up, it had been the truth. Daryl was the younger brother, meant to follow Merle’s footsteps. He wasn’t supposed to have an opinion on the matter, much less fight it.

Then he did.

Dale told him that; that his opinion mattered. He didn’t believe him - still didn’t - but Dale was dead and that didn’t matter either. There were too many things for him to wrap his head around. Too many outcomes with Randall and  Desirée.

Desirée Parker.

_ That _ was really someone Daryl didn’t want to have an opinion over. At least, not one that others listened to or cared about. She was too damn confusing, too much to handle in such a short amount of time.

No, Daryl couldn’t think about that. Following Rick was best, like he followed Merle. 

“We can take them out to Senoia,” Rick said, breaking Daryl off his thoughts. He turned and watched Rick point down at the map they had used for Sofia. Sofia was another thing he didn’t want to think about. “Hour there, hour back give or take. We may lose the light, but we’ll be halfway home by then.”

Daryl pushed off the banister. “This little pain in the ass will be a distant memory.” He was talking about Randall. “Good riddance.” Rick scratched the back of his neck and looked over the farm. 

“We have to let her go too.” Shane said to hell with them both, but there had been an argument over Desirée. Some saw her differently, if only because she hadn’t shot Rick in the face when she had the chance. Maybe, Rick shouldn’t have told them what she did. It would make leaving her a lot easier.

“I know.” He sounded bored. Daryl was good at that; masking what he really felt about things. Merle taught him that, how to hide behind his own face. 

_ You have a mean son-of-a-bitch of a face. Use it. _

“Carol’s putting together some provisions for them,” he continued. Daryl knew Rick could see through the bullshit. Rick was good at that, but Rick was also good at leaving things be. “Enough to last a few days.”

They both turned at the sound of wheels and watched the distant figure of Shane approach, the car he was driving pushing past what would have been acceptable when speed limits were still a thing to be listened to. Rick swallowed, folded up the map and leaned against the side of the house.

“That thing you did last night.” He stopped, unable to continue. Dale’s death was too fresh. Daryl, who hadn’t ever been particularly close to the old man, but still felt  _ something _ over his death, looked down at his feet. 

“Ain’t no reason you should do all the heavy lifting,” he responded after a moment. Rick nodded, distracted when Shane pulled the car into park beside them. Daryl looked back and caught Shane’s eye through the slightly tinted windows.

“So,” Rick shifted his feet and glanced off towards the barn. Daryl had patched it up earlier, though he hadn’t stopped to have a chat with either prisoner. No one had said a word to them since the night before. It was too awkward in Daryl’s view, who hadn’t done anything to stop the execution himself. 

It wasn’t that Daryl didn’t feel it wasn’t wrong. Randall he could justify in his head, but he had been there when Desirée snapped and attacked the kid. He had seen it with his own eyes. Desirée wasn’t a piece of shit, not as far as he could tell.

Did that mean she didn’t deserve to die for her own crimes? She had shot at Rick and the rest of them. She was a part of that group in the first place. No one could be that blind to the actions of those around them; she had to have known some of what those men did, even if she refused to believe Dave had a hand in it.

“Are you good with all of this?” Shane turned off the engine and opened the door. Daryl looked away. That was the million dollar question wasn’t it? In a way, he was, but with only one of them. 

“I don’t see you and I trading haymakers on the side of the road,” he shrugged, avoiding the real question. “Nobody’d win that fight.” Behind him, he heard Shane approaching. “I’m gonna take a piss.”

He wasn’t good at confrontation despite his rough personality. Plus, he figured Rick and Shane, old pals that they were, had a lot of talking to do. Talking was another he wasn’t too good at. He always managed to get the words wrong; the proof of that fact in that way he had snapped at Carol many times on his search for Sofia.

He found his way towards the shed. Unbeknown to Daryl his thoughts always circled around to one thing. Desirée. Randall and her were magnets to the group, creatures set out to be gawked and awed at.

He entered the shed to find Randall tearing his hands apart and Desirée yelling. Randall was kept in handcuffs, while Desirée had to be switched around. Daryl hadn’t told the group she knew how to slip ropes and neither had Rick who had figured she’d done just that during his fight with Shane.

The thing was; why didn’t she run? They weren’t babysat twenty-four seven, no matter how much Shane argued against it. There were time gaps, chances to be taken. 

Daryl only had one solution in his head - and he hated it.

Desirée wanted to die. Yes, she practically talked Rick out of killing her, but she hadn’t exactly fought any of it like Randall. She wasn’t rubbing her wrist raw like the kid or begging every chance she had. It was one of the reasons Randall was taped shut and she wasn’t. She wasn’t annoying.

“You’re a fucking idiot!” she snapped, her attention turned away from the door and at the boy. She shifted her feet and attempted to move the hair out of her face. It only served to fall right back down, irritating her further. “A dog could get out of that.”

“Mhm!” Randall cried out. He had been blindfolded too. That was Shane’s doing. Desirée, apparently, had slipped her’s for it was around her neck and no longer covered her eyes.

She saw Daryl next.

  
  


Desirée had always gotten irritated easily. It was a trait she shared with Dave, neither Parker sibling were able to stand things they found mildly annoying for very long, lest they snap upon that annoying thing.

Unfortunately, Randall was  _ very _ annoying.

She had just snapped when she heard slow steps and turned her head to meet the glare of Daryl. She didn’t know what to exactly think of Daryl. He was nice, in a way, yet he always had a hard glare on his face. That could have just been because of Randall, however. He tended to bring out the worst in people. 

_ You haven’t given your worst yet. _

He was back. She avoided looking in the corner Dave slouched in, his low-tone chuckle vibrating inside her head. She  _ knew _ he wasn’t there. Someone would have done something if he was.

_ They’re just going to try to kill you again. _

Someone would have saved her.

Daryl didn’t say a word. He marched towards Randall, who had finally quieted down at the sound of footsteps, and yanked him forward. 

“Dammit.” He roughly pushed the boy back. Randall whimpered and tried against hope to see who it was. He wasn’t the brightest. Desirée had gotten the blindfold off by simply tossing her head back and it slipped. These people weren’t too good at tying knots. “Fucking waste of resources on you.”

“Hmh!” Randall fought back. Whatever he has meant to say never got past the gag. Desirée was almost thankful - if it hadn’t been Shane who’d done it.

“About the other night….” Daryl trailed off, unable to meet her eyes. She knew enough about what he was talking about and that he didn’t mean it towards Randall. 

“It’s fine.”

_ They almost fucking shot you - just like they shot me. _

She ignored the voice to her right. He was dead. Dave wasn’t coming back.

_ Ignoring it won’t make it go away. _

“Shut up,” she hissed. Daryl turned and frowned. She shook her head, desperate to get rid of the ghost that seemed to stick by her side. “Sorry, not-not at you.”

“You’re going crazy.” It wasn’t a question. Daryl could see the desperation in her eyes.

“We all are,” she spat back, unwilling to admit she was really seeing her dead brother. Or was Dave actually dead? Maybe, somehow, he was there because Dave was still alive.

Dave could still be there. Waiting for Desirée. She had to get back to him was all.

“You’re not fooling anyone, girlie,” he shrugged. She was still a prisoner. Her mental state wasn’t of any concern to them. Not while they still had her tied up and locked away. Daryl cared less about her than the dirt on the bottom of his boots - and that was okay; Desirée didn’t need some shiny knight to rescue her.

She didn’t fucking need anyone. She had been alone before, during an odd stretch of time after everyone was fucking gone, buried six feet down, before she met Jared and Dave had done another disappearing act. Four months after their father died Dave was caught breaking and entering - and he was shipped off for the third time in her life.

Desirée didn’t see him again for two years.

She met Jared three weeks after Dave popped back up, grinning and pretending like nothing had ever happened. Desirée had been too scared to ever confront him about it. There was a fifteen year difference between them and though Desirée had only been fifteen, Dave was thirty and he had his own choices. She had laid low by herself when he abandoned her. Where Dave and her were from no one gave a shit as long as you kept to yourself - a lesson they had learned young when working for Hayden.

“Just fuck off.” Her words didn’t have the bite she felt. They fell flat and dead at his feet. Cold, numb. Souvenirs for the tourists to pick up on their way out.

“Fine.” She refused to look when he walked out. It hit too close to home. 

_ Don’t be so sad, Desi. Don’t we always come back? _

If he didn’t kill her first she was going to kill Dave. She wanted him gone. She wanted him with her. She wanted  _ so much _ it caused a real ache in her chest that made it impossible to breathe. She was positive that one more -  _ crack _ \- and her heart would cease to beat.

If no one had died from a broken heart before Desirée Parker was going to be the first to do so. She felt like she deserved that much out of her short life. Twenty years had felt too long anyways. 

With Daryl gone it was her, her thoughts and fucking Randall again. She almost missed him. 

_ And you don’t miss me? I’m heartbroken, Desi. _

“Do you ever fucking shut up?” She growled back. Alive Dave was hard to shut up. She shouldn’t have expected something different - dead Dave or not.

_ That’s really no way to speak to me. You used to listen to everything I said. _

That was a long time ago. Before Hayden and her father, certainly. Before everything had become so fucked up.

Where had they all gone? Her family and Jared, even Jane. If Jane wasn’t already dead without Dave’s protection she was going to be soon. She never did learn the same lesson as Dave and Desirée. She was always too protected. Desirée had hated her for it when they were children; Jane had gone to school dances and grew up in a big house, Desirée had found her mother on the kitchen floor and burnt everything she had ever touched.

It didn’t matter so much anymore. Desirée loved her cousin and if she found out someone had touched Jane she was going to hurt them. That was if she ever got out alive.

There was another question she wasn’t too sure how to answer. Did she even want out? If the truth was that Dave was really gone she had nothing left, not even Jane who seemed too far away, too out of reach. If her cousin survived she would be okay without Dave, but Desirée? She didn’t know anything outside of her brother, she never cared much about the world to do so.

She didn’t have the time to wonder. Again, she heard the shed door open. It wasn’t Daryl.

It was Shane.

She eyed Randall to her right, who for such a dumb person, wisely stopped his struggling once more. He must have felt the air for his fear grew around them.

_ Clocks ticking on this one, Desi _ , Dave remarked. They watched Shane cross the floorboards, silent and sulking within himself. It was clear there was something  _ not right _ about the man. Desirée had never placed it before, but seeing his eyes again brought something up.

It was that look Tony had when he was talking about those girls. He had asked Dave to go with them to that camp and Dave had yelled for them not to go. He never wanted any of those things to happen, but Dave was one man against twenty stronger men and if he wanted to keep his head he had to keep his nose clean. He never did ask what happened - and neither had Desirée.

Shane grabbed the chair they used for watch, causing Randall to jump out of his skin. Desirée stayed still, unwilling to make the first move. She wasn’t forgotten however. Shane sensed her clear as day and not for the first time in her life she wished someone dead.

Desirée had to be careful about that, however. The last time she had wished such a thing three of the men in the group had ended up beating him to death. He deserved it, but the thought was still there that maybe, somehow, Desirée had caused it. 

She tried to get everything out of her head when she heard Shane let out a deep breath. It wouldn’t save her to be distracted. She didn’t know if she still wanted to live, but she damn well wasn’t going to die by this piece of shit’s hands.

“Ahhh.” She flinched when he reached up. He didn’t hit her, but himself.

Again and again.

_ Click _

A gun aimed right at her temple. Beside her, Randall began to whimper, but Randall would have been more scared if he could have seen their captives face. Desirée wanted to curl into herself and disappear, to go back to Dave, no matter where he was. 

_ Desi, you have to fight. _

She couldn’t. Not without him. 

“Hmph!” Randall cried out. Shane had pulled him forward like Daryl had and noticed his bloody wrists. He had done a number on them. It made Shane pause and look between the cuffs and the still whimpering boy. Desirée was only glad his attention was taken off her.

He sat back down, thinking.

_ Now's your chance. _

“If you kill us-” She hated the way her voice broke. She almost stopped when his head snapped in her direction. Dave motioned her forward, encouraging her from wherever he was. “If you kill us they’ll know it was you.”

“So?” He raised a brow. Shane didn’t give a shit about what his group thought of him. It was clear he wanted to be the leader, the protector. If it had ever been his job she was glad that Rick had it - not that she would ever admit it, especially to her brother or the man himself.

“You’re a smart man.” It was killing her to say that. “You have to think this through. Rationally.”

“Rationally,” he snorted. He scratched the side of his head with the barrel of the gun. Clearly, his uncle hadn’t given him safety tips on firearms. “Fine. Fucking  _ fine _ . You want to be rational?”

She was in deep shit. Instinct kicked in and she tried to sweep her foot out when he advanced upon her. She was too late. He latched onto her arm and roughly dragged her to her feet, causing the rope tied around her to uncomfortably rub against her wrist and down her arms.

“You’re going to take me to that camp of yours,” he threatened. He raised the gun up to her head - again. She really wasn’t going to get used to that. Was she so unlikeable that people had to keep on aiming deadly weapons at her head?

_ Not the time, Desi. _

Dave was right. She needed to focus, get control of the situation at hand. That used to be in her skill set. However, manipulating teachers that her homework was already turned in and psychopathic murderers not to kill her were two entirely different things.

“Okay.” What was it Hayden had done when the men became too violent? Her uncle had fought back, but Hayden had been a big man. The years he spent in prison he bulked him up from the scrawny basketball player he once was. Desirée wasn’t her uncle - nor Dave who chose to fight his battles in very much the same manner.

“I don’t believe you.” He threw her back, causing the breath to knock out of her when her back made contact with the shaky shed walls. She hunched over, unable to properly support herself. She should have slipped the ropes long ago. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t and it was going to get her killed.

Her view on death kept shifting. On one hand she had Dave where even his ghost consistently voided the idea of her dying, the other was that Dave had to be gone and she had to see him again. 

Randall tuned in. Gagged and blinded his ears were his only defense. She could feel his evening breathes, the sticky scent of another honing in on all of her deep dark fears.

“I-I can’t,” she admitted. She cast her eyes over towards Randall. “But he can.” She didn’t know where the hell they were; she wasn’t from around here, not even from fucking Georgia itself. Randall was. He knew one of the people here - what was her name? Meg? Maddy? - he knew where they were. 

“Fuck.” Clearly, he felt some things about Randall. He glared down at him, ran the gun down the length of his arm and started to pace. “ _ Fuck _ .” Back at the door, he made up his mind. He grabbed the end of the rope Desirée was attached to and cut it off.

He then unlocked Randall. The boy stumbled to his feet at the rough handling and while he tried to grab his bearings Shane locked the cuffs again. 

“Both of you are coming with me,” he scowled. Desirée kept silent, far more scared than she ever remembered being. The night Hayden died was the only thing that could have topped that - and Desirée had made a point of ignoring everything about that night just as she had done with her father Ian’s death. 

He pushed the two prisoners ahead of him and pointed out towards the woods. He locked the shed again and grabbed the end of the rope Desirée still had wrapped around her wrist. She was really trapped between two evils.

_ You should have ran when you had the chance _ , Dave scolded. He trotted alongside them, looking more human than the previous hallucinations of him. There was a new flicker in his eyes, something more alive about him.

Randall grunted, still blindfolded and wandered aimlessly over tree roots and leaves. “Shh,” Shane frowned. He cast a look behind them, checking that they had no pursuers on their route. “Go that way!” He pushed Randall, Desirée picked up her feet before she could receive the same treatment. “Go on, go on.”

Unable to see, Randall tripped. He landed on his face, his tied hands unable to catch his fall.

_ He was always a clumsy one. Karma was meant to find him. _

She made a point to ignore the voice to her right. God knew what Shane would do if he figured out she wasn’t entirely in her right mind. One crazy person to another and all.

“Dammit.” Shane stepped around and picked the boy up. He looked up and scowled. They weren’t far enough away from the shed not to be seen. “Shh, shh, shhh.” He slowly lifted the blindfold, one hand clenched tightly around Desirée’s own binds.

Randall protested, loudly beneath the tape across his mouth. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” Shane repeated. He did another sweep of their surroundings. “Hey, come on, come on.” He gripped the back of his head and bent down, eye level and threatening. “I get it. I’m the last face you probably want to see, huh?”

_ Understatement _ .

She shifted her weight. If a lurker passed by or something she could distract Shane long enough to get free, damn Randall to it all. It didn’t matter she had no idea where camp was. She would find it, recuse Jane, and they had to live on for Dave together.

It was a good plan. Solid. She just needed more time.

“Listen,” Shane sighed. He eyed Desirée above them and raised a brow. She hung her head and he turned back towards Randall. “I’m gonna take you up out of here, okay?”

_ He’s going to kill him _ .

Desirée knew it to be the truth. She could see it in his eyes. He wanted them dead, both of them and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Shane was stronger, faster, far more advanced than Desirée. 

Shane continued, “I’m gonna get this off of you so you can breathe, but I want you to keep quiet.” He tightened his hold and Randall whimpered at the flash of pain. “You listen good, you hear me?”

Randall nodded. “Okay.” He reached forward and tore the tape off. Randall winced, eyes darted towards Desirée, but she wasn’t going to help. “Now your group, you know where they at?”

Randall frowned. He glanced back towards Shane, more confused than scared. He had heard the conversation between Shane and Desirée, but fear won out. “I-I don’t,” he gulped. He wouldn’t meet her or his eyes. “She was-she was lying. I really-”

Shane smacked the side of his head. He moved faster, dragged Randal back up to his eyes. “Get your ass back up here. Now I’m the only shot of you getting out of these woods alive. Your little girlfriend right there is all tied up and she can’t help you. You hear me? So you better start talking, boy. Where are they at?”

“We had a camp set up off the highway,” Randall gasped. Desirée frowned, she hadn’t known they were that close. How far away was Dave’s body? Where was her brother rotting away? “About five miles from here. Who knows if they’re still there.”

They wouldn’t be. The moment word came back about Dave the men would have left. Jane too. She had nowhere else. No one else. 

Shane smiled, tilted his head and leaned in real close. “You’re going to take me to ‘em?” It wasn’t a question. Randall was too stupid to see that, but she could. There were too many men like Shane, before and after the end of fucking everything. You got to know that look they held about them, that smell on their breath, fresh and metallic like spilt blood.

“Why?” Randall looked around them, expecting an ambush, anything. He even looked up at Desirée.

Shane leaned back on his hutches, swiped a hand over his bald head. “Because man, I-I’m just done with this group, man. They doomed and I want nothing to do with it.”

_ He's a real wolf in sheep’s clothing, ain’t he? _

Dave was right about that. Whatever Shane was in the past it had honed his acting skills. Stupid Randall would fall all for it. Not Desirée. Shane knew that too, he kept his eyes on her throughout the entire talk.

He had to work another angle with the distraught girl. 

“So you’re not gonna kill me?” Poor, stupid, naïve Randall. He was going to die first. It was written down somewhere, wherever it is that people who believe in that shit are.

“Come on, man, if I was you’d be dead.” He grabbed Randall’s arm and pushed him to his feet. He wrapped his hand tighter around the rope Desirée was in and demanded they both go ahead.

“Hey,” Randall called out. He had a limp, his leg not yet fully healed despite the weeks between their capture. “You ain’t gotta be so rough. We’re on the same side now.”

“Randall,” Desirée interjected, saying her first piece since the start of their journey. He ignored her. It pissed her off enough to not warn him again about the wold trailing behind them.

“You’re gonna like it with us,” he blabbered on. “Gets a little crazy sometimes, but it’s a tough bunch of guys. You’ll fit in good.”

_ He’s right about that _ , Dave scuffed. He was still there. God, how she wanted him to disappear.  _ Fit riiiight in _ .

“Less talking, more walking,” Shane said. 

“Look,” Randall attempted at peace. “I run my mouth when I get nervous. I can’t help it. I got a lot going on, y’know?”

“It ain’t all about you,” Shane mumbled, saying the very words Desirée was thinking. She wasn’t too keen on that. It didn’t matter, she didn’t have the time to dwell over sharing thoughts with him before he was on top of Randall.

“Shit!” She stumbled back and winced at the sharp pain that spread throughout her wrist when the rope rubbed away the skin there. Shane didn’t care about that. He placed Randall’s head between his bigger hands and sharply twisted it to the right, resonating a crack throughout the boy’s body.

Randall crumpled down, folded limbs and all sprayed awkwardly on the forest ground. Desirée didn’t have the time to panic. 

_ To your left! _ _   
_

She ducked, years of survival flooded in and she kicked out with the toe of her boot. Shane cursed when the blow made contact with his shin and brought him briefly down to one knee. It gave her enough time to slip the ropes completely, having been working on them since Shane first shoved her outside.

He was on her before she could blink. Terror gripped her, hard and unrelenting.

She didn’t want to die.

Desirée Parker didn’t actually want to die.

Pity, she had to find out in that way. Shane had her down, pinned before she could do much about it. “Just fucking stay still,” he hissed. He knocked back his fist and drove it inside the side of her head. Dizzy, she struggled to kick back.

Shane lost his grip and she managed to swipe her leg out and land a hit dead center on his nose. Bewildered, he clutched it. Blood dripped down over his front and into his eyes, blinding him.

Desirée used the advantage given to her. She stumbled to her feet, shaken and out of breath. When she turned to, however, Shane had gotten up and wielded a tree branch.

“Don’t!” she yelped. He didn’t listen and instead tried to hit her with the weapon. She jumped back in time, stumbled over a root and crashed down. Her hands stung with the combined beating and rope burns. It made it difficult to climb back on her feet.

“There isn’t any fucking thing for you,” Shane growled. He advanced upon her, wild and angry. “Why don’t you just die?”

_ Desi, don’t listen to him. _

“Think your brother’s gonna save you?”

_ I’m always here, Desi. _

“That fucking coward abandoned you first chance.”

_ He’s lying. _

“S-Stop!” she cried out. She didn’t know who she was talking to. Dave was dead, but so very much alive in her head. It was hard, so fucking hard.

“Listen to this, Desi.” She caught her breathe at the sound of her nickname; the one only Dave was ever allowed to use.

_ Desi, don’t. Don’t listen to a fucking word, Desi. _

“Your brother’s alive.” She stopped. Everything ceased to exist, but Shane and his words. Even Dave faded out, his ghost another thought far away.

What?

Dave alive? It wasn’t possible. Rick would have - right? He would have - said something. 

“Rick lied to you. And you have to kill him, Desi.” She didn’t breathe when he came closer, she could smell the desperation on him.

But Dave. If Dave was alive she  _ owed _ it to him.

“Rick Grimes has your brother and you have to kill him for it.”

“I-I.”

“If you want Dave back you have to kill Rick.”

_ Where the fuck were they? _

Daryl slammed open the shed door, pissed and bewildered. Both prisoners were gone, escaped and out there. Too close to home, too unpredictable.

“What’s wrong?” Lori questioned as she marched up to the group. Rick sighed and glanced behind him at the darkened shed. It was Glen who spoke.

“Randall and Desirée are missing.” He joined them in the search, while Lori turned toward her husband.

“Missing?” She looked behind her, expecting to see either one of them wielding a weapon at her head. “How?”

Hershel stepped up with more important questions. “How long have they been gone?” Rick shook his head.

“It’s hard to say,” he admitted. “The cuffs are still hooked, the rope was cut.” He jumped down the small step and stood beside Hershel. “He must have slipped the cuffs and she cut them.”

Daryl found that out. Desirée knew how to slip ropes, he knew that. She wouldn’t have taken the time to cut them if she wanted out. And Randall sure as hell didn't know how to slip anything.

Not unless Desirée helped him.

“Is that possible?” Carol questioned. Andrea exited the shed after Rick, more determined than pissed.

“It is if you’ve got nothing to lose.”

Hershel started to close the shed. “The door was secured from the outside,” he noted. No one had a chance to respond before another voice joined the folly.

“Rick!” It was Shane. Beaten and bloody as he marched up to them. Daryl tried to look behind him, in the woods where he had come from.

No Randall. Worse yet, no Desirée.

“What happened?” Lori yelled out. Shane stalked towards them.

“She’s armed,” he told them. “She’s got my gun.” Carl looked up at his second father figure and cringed at the blood drying on his chin.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Shane responded. “Little bastard just snuck up on me. They both clocked me in the face.” He paused, building the story Daryl suspected he was telling. “She killed Randall and grabbed my gun.” Rick reacted accordingly.

“Alright,” he twisted around to address the group. “Hershel, T-Dog, get everybody back to the house. Glenn, Daryl, come with us.” Daryl loaded the crossbow always at his side and shared a nod with Rick.

“T,” Shane frowned. “I’m gonna need that gun.”

“Just let them go,” Carol insisted. “That was the plan, wasn’t it, to just let them go?”

“The plan was to cut them loose far away from here, not on our front step with a gun.” He was pissed. At himself, really. He hadn’t thought Desirée capable of such a thing. He was wrong, far more wrong than he had been before and it was costing them everything.

Daryl shook his head. “It had to be self-defence,” he reasoned. “She wouldn’t do anything to Randall without a reason.”

“Don’t you go getting soft on a pretty face,” Shane sneared. Daryl barely held himself back from snapping the finger pointed at his face. “She’s fucking deadly and looking to gun down anyone.”  
That sounded more like Shane than Desirée. He knew to try to hold his tongue. At least, until they found Desirée.

“Don’t go out there,” Carol pleaded. “Y’all don’t know what can happen.”

“Get everybody back to the house,” Rick demanded. “Lock all the doors and  _ stay put _ !” The four set out to look for the lone girl.

“I saw her head up through the trees that way before I blacked out,” Shane said. They picked up their pace. “I’m not sure how long.”

“She couldn’t have gotten far,” Rick frowned. He stopped to curvy the area. “She’s scared, exhausted, still in grieving.”

“And armed,” Glenn added. He didn’t know what to think. Randall, maybe, was capable of doing it all, but that girl? Glenn just wasn’t sure.

“So are we,” Rick reminded him. He nodded at Daryl. “Can you track her?”

“No, I don’t see nothing.” It was the truth. Daryl was good, but there was too much around them to properly track anything. Plus, they were losing the light faster than he liked. 

Shane panicked. It was heard in his voice. “There ain’t no use in tracking her, okay? She went that way. We need to pair up.”

“Kid doesn’t even weigh a buck-25 soaking wet.” He turned, locked eyes. “You tryna tell us she got the jump on you?”

Shane scuffed. “There were two of them. A rock pretty much even the odds with that, don’t it? I just know she put Randall down before I blacked out. Saw it with my own eyes.”

Bullshit.

“Alright, knock it off,” Rick pressed. “You and Glenn start heading up the right flank. Me and Shane’ll take the left.” He pointed off in each direction. “Remember, Desirée’s not the only threat out there. Keep an eye out for each other.”

Rick was right about that. It wasn’t just Desirée and Walkers either, it was Shane, but to mention that would start something Daryl didn’t have the time for.

“Come on,” he hissed. There was no sense in wasting the little light they did have. Glenn followed along, content to watch Daryl head through the woods first. 

They walked slowly, careful with their footing. For once, Glenn didn’t talk. It gave Daryl the time he needed to make sense of things. Sure, he couldn’t claim to be an expert on Desirée Parker, but out of the group he was with her the most and he had learned her.

For one, she was sad a lot. The death of her brother broke something in her. She wasn’t a killer, however, even if she had snapped upon Randall once. Daryl couldn’t see it in her eyes. Not like he saw it in Shane’s.

There was more to the story. He didn’t have the full picture and that irritated him.

He paused, realized he could no longer see anything and turned towards his new companion. “This is pointless. You got a light?” Glenn nodded and handed the flashlight over.

Daryl pointed it down and let out an irritated sigh. He couldn’t see for shit. “Come on.” He led them off, back towards the house in hope of  _ something _ . 

“We’re just back to square one,” Glenn pointed out.

“If you’re gonna do a thing, might as well do it right,” he shrugged. It was going to be easier to try to track them for him. No matter what Shane said. That bastard was hiding something. 

_ Found it. _

“There’s three sets of tracks right here,” he noted. They advanced further on the trail. “Shane must’ve followed them a lot longer than he said.” He lifted the light and spotted a red mark on the tree in front of him. “Look. There’s fresh blood right here.”

He paused, searched around them and found the tracks again on the other side. “More tracks. Come on.” He had to admit; Shane’s story was shedding a lot of loose holes. “Looks like they’re walking in tandem.”

Glenn moved faster, more freaked out by the night than anything and bumped into Daryl back. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He moved back, let the hunter do his thing. It wasn’t in Glenn’s skillset to track like him.

It didn’t matter. Daryl had his attention on something else. “There was a little dust up right there.” Three different prints. Shane, Randall and Desirée. 

“What do you mean?” Glenn frowned. Daryl paused, re-seeing the scene in his head. Shane and Randall, on top of each other. Then Desirée, her prints further back until the three of them went on again.

“Mean something went down,” he revealed.

“It’s getting weird,” Glenn sighed. Daryl spotted dark cloth. Randall’s blindfold. Everything was coming together real nice, but it left a question.

Where the hell was Desirée?

Glenn picked up the cloth and was immediately startled by a rustle behind them. “Shit.” They skipped ahead and turned their back around so they faced the new threat. It was a figure, walking along the darkened trees. Daryl handed back the flashlight, checked his crossbow and leaned against the tree at his back.

The figure approached. 

It was Randall.

Glenn, startled, fell back. He tried to get his bearings only to tumble over again when Daryl let a bolt fly free from his weapon. He missed and the walker-turned Randall landed heavily on him. 

Glenn attacked from the behind and managed to wrestle him down to the ground. It gave him time to stab the dead-Randall in the head. Daryl picked up the light and shone it down on his body.

“Oh.” At least, it wasn’t Desirée. It wasn’t a thought he was going to share with anyone, but it was there. Somehow, he was glad she wasn’t dead. “Nice.” He patted Glenn on the shoulder and shifted to the side.

Glenn sighed and bent down to retrieve his weapon.

There were a lot more questions to be had now that they had found Randall. A walker-turned Randall no less. Had Desirée gotten him bit? Or perhaps Shane? It wasn’t adding up.

  
  


There was a plan to follow and follow it Desirée had to do.

She had to kill Rick. It was the only way to bring back Dave. Shane said so, and why would he lie about something with her brother?

Yes, Shane had to be telling the truth. Dave was alive, somewhere. Captive like she is - was. She is free -  _ will be will _ \- once she kills Rick. It’s a little confusing.

The gun weighs heavy in her palm. Shane’s gun, given to her, so she can kill Rick with it. She’s never done that before, never killed someone. She’s killed lurkers, but those things aren’t people. Dave’s killed, so has Rick and probably Shane, maybe even that one girl, Carol.

Yes, those people are killers. 

She can be one too.

“Does this way feel right?” That was Rick’s voice. She could hear them below her. She had hidden far from their view yet close enough to listen in. Shane will give the signal.

She had to do it for Dave.

“As right as any.” Shane’s voice. They had stopped to chit-chat. She couldn’t see them from her perch, but Rick didn’t sound too happy with his next words.

“Snatched your gun, huh?”

“Yeah,” Shane sniffed. “It’s my favorite piece too.” She looked down at said weapon in her hand. There wasn’t anything remarkable about it. Standord issued, a well-taken care of Glock with half a round. She had grown up around firearms, had learned them like the back of her hand upon Hayden’s insistence. 

A gun like Shane’s had taken him down. Only a brown skinned hand had been behind it. That man had dark eyes, too, darker than anyone else’s Desirée had met. 

Shane didn’t stop talking. “Gonna wish-gonna wish she’d killed me when I find her sorry ass.” 

They’re looking for her?

“You say she got you with a rock?” Closer now. Far more closer. She shifts into position, eyes trained on the clearing Shane will lead him to.

“That’s what I said,” Shane responded, more defensive than he needed to be. They wandered closer.

“Inside the shed?” It was clear Rick wasn’t believing the whole story. “‘Cause that door was shut when T-Dog rolled up.”

“I saw that too,” Shane shrugged. Desirée finally saw them, Rick in front with Shane trailing behind. He kept looking around, trying to gauge where she was at. “Must’ve slipped through the rafters in the roof.”

Rick sighed and tried to coordinate his thoughts. It gave Desirée the time she needed to slip out and slowly advance on them.

“So this is where you planned to do it?” Rick’s voice stopped her. Something in it. It made her wait, despite the hand signal she saw from Shane.

Dave would want her to wait for a little bit longer. Assess her situation.

“It’s as good a place as any,” Shane responded. Rick turned around. Thankfully, Desirée had laid off and she wasn’t seen.

“At least have the balls to call this what it is.” Shane withdrew his gun. “Murder.”

_ Are you going to be a murder like me now, Desi? _

It wasn’t Dave that appeared before her. No, this figure was bigger and gone for much, much longer.

“Hayden.” It was a name, a whisper that died on her lips.

_ Little Desi. _ He smiled wide, the same smile he used to give her whenever she got through one of his hard training sessions. Hayden had been ruthless in that category. His job was to dispose of the bodies that less than savory people killed - and he did his job well.

It wasn’t without help. From the time Desirée was ten she had been roped in right alongside Dave. It was a necessity. He had trained the both of them for it. His little successors. Too bad the business had died right with him.

Desirée still had those skills, however. She knew how to hide a body better than most criminals.

“You really believe if you walk back onto that farm alone, no me, no Desirée,” Rick overpowered Hayden’s appearance. She turned her attention back towards the clearing and there they were. Real, alive people.

Dave was alive. He had to be.

“I want you to hush up,” Shane cut in. Rick ignored him and Desirée watched as they began to slowly circle around one another. It was like a dance. An odd one at that.

“You really believe they’re gonna buy whatever bullshit story you cook up?”

“That’s just it,” whispered Shane. “It ain’t no story. I saw that prisoner shoot you down. I ran after her. I snapped her neck.”

Like Randall. He was going to kill her like fucking Randall. Rage - blind and got - filled her. Even if Dave was alive still, she was no longer going to follow Shane’s lead. She was going to get him back another way. If she did end up killing Rick, it wasn’t going to be because Shane told her she had to.

“It ain’t gonna be easy,” Shane pressed on. She could see the silent fury on Rick’s face. “But Lori and Carl. They’ll get over you. They done it before. They just gonna have to.”

The gun clicked and was aimed right at Rick. He wasn’t going to wait around for Desirée. Probably, thought she had run off after he had given her that chance to. She should have, but she needed to know if he was lying.

If Dave was alive, Rick would know.

“Why?” She had to wonder too. She didn’t know the history between them, but history there was. It was clear. They had something deep between them. “Why now?”

A woman? It was always women after all. That’s what Dave kept telling her.

“I thought we worked this all out,” Rick sighed. He walked towards his friend. Shane laughed.

“We tried to kill each other, man.” The day Desirée had first saved Rick. They really had been going at it hard. “What you think? We just gone forget about it all? We gonna ride off into the sunset together?”

“You’re gonna kill me in cold blood?” Rick demanded, his anger making a face. “Screw my wife? Have my children -  _ my _ children - call you Daddy. Is that what you want? That life won’t be worth a damn. I know you, you won’t be able to live with this.”

He had that wrong. Rick may have known Shane, but that was before Shane. Desirée knew this Shane. The killer that really could murder his best friend right there and not feel an ounce of grief over it.

“Whatcha know about what I can live with?” Shane yelled out. “You got no idea what I can live with, what I live with! You wanna talk about what I can do, Rick?” He stepped back, challenge made. “How about what you can do? Here I am.” He put the gun away, arms raised. “Come on, man. Raise your gun.”

“No,” Rick shook his head. “No. I will not.” 

“What happened, Rick? I thought you weren’t the good guy anymore. Ain’t that what you said?” Shane taunted him. “Even right here, right now, you ain’t gonna fight for ‘em? I’m a better father than you, Rick. I’m better for Lori than you, man. It’s ‘cause I’m a better man than you, Rick.”

Desirée frowned. Rick killed her brother - no, no Dave was alive, somewhere - but Shane was a worse person. Someone who had to die, before Rick for sure. And Rick wasn’t going to do it. She could see it and it angered her.

How could he shoot Dave and not Shane in cold blood?

“You got a broken woman,” Shane whispered, his rant dying down to whispers. Desirée moved closer in to hear them, still out of sight and therefore out of mind. She wasn’t a part of their world anymore. “You got a weak boy. You ain’t got the first clue in how to fix it. Raise your gun.” He pulled his back out and aimed it up.

Desirée moved even closer. Her own weapon felt hot in her hands, too hot. “You’re gonna have to kill an unarmed man,” Rick insisted. He raised up his hands. “Watch my hand. Nice and easy.” He lowered his arm down, grabbed his own gun and held it out towards Shane.

Coward. Whatever the fuck Rick was - if he had her brother or not - he was for sure a coward. Dave was her brother and yet he couldn’t kill his own?

“Now listen to me, Shane,” he continued. “There is still a way back from this. Nothing has happened here. We’re gonna lay down our guns and we’re gonna walk back to the farm, together. Back to Lori. Back to Carl. Put this all behind us.” He handed off the weapon.

Desirée had enough. She raised up her gun.

She was too late.

Rick had reached back for his knife and shoved it into Shane’s gut before she could blink. A shot went off and Shane crumpled into his best friend’s arms.

Desirée blanked out, at a loss. Who was Rick? A husband, father? A killer of two people? One who was a brother, and the other, a brother to him.

“Damn you for making me do this, Shane,” Rick cursed. Tears fell from his eyes. Desirée used the advantage to walk up, careful not to startle him into stabbing her as well. She had another angle to play and with her jumbled mind she wasn’t sure on how to do it. “This was you! Not me! You did this to us.” He repeated it again.

He began to cry when Shane’s grasp on his jacket faded out. The grief of losing one was hard, something Desirée knew a bit better than Rick. She had lost a lot. And it hadn’t been lurkers or even whatever the new world turned alive people into.

“It’s hard,” she mumbled. “Losing a brother, huh?”

“You!” He twisted around, knife raised up to her throat. She didn’t react. Rick was a killer, but he was also a fierce protector and if she was going to get back to her brother she needed him.

That was the angle.

“Shane killed Randall,” she pressed on. Rick paused, too stricken up about his friend’s death. “He told me-he told me- It doesn’t matter. Here.” She handed him back the gun. Shane’s gun. He took it with shaky fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. She lowered herself down beside him, pushed back the hair that covered his forehead and attempted that same Hayden Parker smile. 

“A brother for a brother.”

“I’m so sorry.” He knew the pain she had felt when he’d taken Dave. It made sense, her anger at him. He was pissed at himself, at Shane and the confusion of emotions inside him didn’t help. 

“Dad?” They both turned at the distraught voice of a young boy. It was the same one from the barn. Carl. It had to be Carl. Rick tried to raise up, fell and began to stumble back onto his knees.

“Come on.” Desirée bent down and helped him up, her eyes trained on the young boy. She was a little younger than him the first time she saw a dead body. It hadn’t been pretty like Shane’s. More blood for one, but the face was unknown to her and had remained so.

Carl knew Shane. The history between Rick and Shane was confusing, and that boy was right in the middle of it. He looked between the body and his father, never paying attention to Desirée herself.

“Carl,” Rick gasped. The boy backed up when they shuffled towards him, the gun his his hands white around his knuckles. “You know-you should be back home with mom.” It was a terrible thing to say. Desirée paused, supported more of the man’s weight and dragged him closer.

They both stopped when a gun was raised up.

“Hey,” Desirée winced. Her voice broke the same as Rick’s.

“Just - just put the - put the gun down.” The boy, Carl, sobbed in response.

“It’s not what it seems,” Rick pleaded. “Please.”  
_Bang_

The bullet whizzed past them. Desirée wiped around, dropping her arms from Rick to find Shane behind them. She had forgotten about that.

There was a woman in their group that had passed from some heart failure. She came back two hours later, ripped off her husband’s face.

The three of them looked at one another over Shane’s body.

“Okay,” Rick gulped. He looked away from his best friend. “Desirée you-you can’t come with us.”

“I have to find my cousin,” she told him. She looked away, hearing a distant sound to her right. “Wait. Come on.”

Roamers. The largest group she’s ever seen.

“Maybe you can stay for this.”

She had to anyways. She had a plan and Rick Grimes was going to be a part of it.


End file.
